


The Truth of Fairytales

by past_memories



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 18:49:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/past_memories/pseuds/past_memories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War leaves physical scars but it's greatest weapon is the ones we cannot see. When Molly Hooper finds herself employed to take care of the wounded solider, Sherlock Holmes, she soon finds that she has no idea what she has gotten herself into. He is physically hurt and mentally superior. But over time Molly realizes that there is more to this moody man-child than she first thought. And as Molly's presence becomes more and more usual, Sherlock realizes that she is one puzzle he hasn't solved yet. And he never leaves a puzzle unsolved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think. I'd be most appreciative.

“Mattie, I’m going to be just fine.” Molly said, patting the older woman’s hand.  
“I’m sure you will be but ever since your parents died I’ve had to watch out for you. I can’t help but feel worried.” The woman fretted as she tucked a nonexistent piece of Molly’s hair behind her ear.  
“I’ll be fine. I’m just going to the war office to sign up become a nurse, not to fight the war.” Molly smiled.  
“I’ve heard stories of bombs being dropped on hospitals before, Molly.” Mattie replied very serious.  
“I’m going to be fine.” Molly took guardian’s hands and gave them a squeeze. “And who knows, I may even find a husband while I’m taking care of soldiers.” she teased.  
“Where ya going Molls?” a little boy asked as he came outside. His blonde hair was sticking up on one side and he had a blanket clasped in his small hands.  
“I’m going to become a nurse Tommy” Molly picked the boy up, smiling as he giggled. “What do you think about that?”  
“Are you gonna save lives?” Tommy asked, rubbing his blanket against his face.  
“Yes, I will.” She giggled as she spun around and set Tommy down.  
“Just promise me you’ll come back, Molly” Mattie said, trying to user Tommy inside.  
“I promise.” Molly kissed Mattie’s forehead before turning to Tommy and giving him a kiss. “You be good” She said before grabbing her bicycle and starting down the dirt road towards town. “They would be proud of you.” Mattie called to Molly “Especially your father” Molly gave a small smile at the memory of her father and turned around to wave a quick goodbye. She had one last glimpse of the faded letters of the sign, “Mattie’s Home for Children”, before she was around the bend.

“What on earth have you done, Sherlock?!” Mycroft Holmes yelled, motioning to the disorder of the sitting room. Papers were scattered everywhere. Some had odd green slime on them, some seemed to have been burnt, and a couple may or may not have been on fire still.  
“I was doing an experiment” rose the reply from the chair in the corner. Sherlock was still in his pajamas and a dressing night shirt even though it was well past noon. His head was resting on the floor and his legs were draped over the back of the chair. His face was turning red, an effect of all the blood rushing to his head.  
Mycroft sighed. “Sit up this instant. You’re acting like a child.”  
“According to some members of this family, I am still a child” Sherlock snapped, straightening himself so that he was laying on the chair, his arms and legs draped over it.  
“Are we going to have this argument again, Sherlock?” Mycroft sighed. “Mummy already said she doesn’t want you to go fight. She wants you here and safe.”  
“You know better than anyone that we need men out there.” Sherlock replied, not looking at Mycroft. “How many have died so far?”  
“I don’t deal with the numbers, Sherlock.”  
“Of course you don’t. You’re all too damn scared that we are losing to the Germans.” Sherlock snapped, shifting away from Mycroft.  
Mycroft sighed. “Mummy is afraid that you will die.”  
“Of course she is. She’s my mother.” Sherlock huffed. “It’s a war. People are going to die. I can’t tell anyone that I won’t because even I don’t know the odds. But I do know that I have to help.”  
“What is this new surge of patriotism coming from?”  
“It’s not patriotism. I know that I can be helpful to the army. I have an above average intelligence. I would flourish in battle and at creating strategies, even you have to admit that. Now, can I sign up or not?”  
“Well-“  
“Good, I already have. I leave in a week for France. Nice talking with you, now leave.” Sherlock stood up and began to push Mycroft out of the door.  
“Wait! Does Mummy and Father know?!” Mycroft yelled, rounding on Sherlock.  
“Do you think I’m dense? Of course they don’t.” Sherlock scoffed.  
“What were you thinking?! Do you know how heartbroken Mummy will be?!”  
“She’ll get over it. “Sherlock waved his hand dismissing Mycroft. “Father is too drunk to even notice that I’m gone. He’ll be too busy sleeping off of his hangover.” He walked out the doors and began to go up the stairs. “Sherlock” Mycroft called after him “just…be careful out there. This isn’t some silly puzzle that you can solve.” Sherlock turned and nodded. “I will be” he promised before running up the stairs.

A week and a lot of packing later, Molly Hooper was on her way to the hospital. She had said her goodbye to all the other children and had gotten her official nurse’s uniform. Having packed her few meager things and set off, she felt excited and nervous for this new adventure.  
Sherlock was in the first class section of the train, as bored as ever. His mother had seen him off with many tears. Even Mycroft looked sad. But he couldn’t dwell on those things now; he was going off to war. He calming folded his hands under his chin and went into his mind palace for the remained of the trip.  
Going off to war is a funny thing. People leave feeling hopeful and scared and nervous all at the same time. But after a while, you become numb. You shut down because it’s easier than dealing with all the death. It’s a rude awakening when you come back to your life as it was before and you have to remember how to feel again. You go in thinking you can save the world, but war leaves no one unscathed.


	2. Chapter 1

“How many?” Molly asked, coming to stand beside another nurse.   
“Twelve. A bomb went off and men got caught in the blast. Most were far enough away, but there was one that was close. He’s already been placed in a special room.” Molly nodded and began to make her way to one of the men that was sitting on a cot.   
“Shards in the leg?” She asked, inspecting his bloody leg. He gave her a nod and she began to roll up his pants so that she could get to his calf.  
“Hooper!” Molly turned over her shoulder to see one of the older doctors jogging towards her.   
“Yes Dr. Erikson?” Molly’s brows knitted and she slowly turned back to the solider sitting in front of her.  
“I need you to see to someone else. I can have another nurse take care of this one” he gestured to the solider sitting on the cot.   
“But I can’t just le-“  
“Hooper. I’ll make sure” He absent mindedly pointed at the solider “…what’s your name?”   
“George” the solider answered.  
“Well Melanie can take care of George. I need you” he pointed to Molly “to take care of Sherlock Holmes. He was the one closest to the blast.”   
“Ok” Molly nodded and followed Dr. Erikson away. Molly had to stifle a laugh when she heard George give a flirty “Hello” to Melanie who giggled in response.   
“Soldiers will do anything to get a little something extra” Dr. Erikson smiled, shaking his head.   
He led Molly down a hallway and opened a door. The room had a small window with the curtains closed, leaving very little light shining on the man lying on the cot.   
“He has gashes up the left side of his body from the blast and the debris” Dr. Erikson explained to Molly as he stepped into the room. “He has bruising on his right side. After the blast happened he was propelled by the shock of it and landed hard on his right side. He has a small cut on his cheek and a large bump on his head. He’s unconscious right now, but his he’ll wake up eventually. When he does, you can dress the wounds and get something cold for his head. If he becomes too much, just come get one of the other doctors and we’ll come help you.” Dr. Erikson concluded before he began to walk out of the room.  
“Why am I doing this sir? I’m just a nurse.” Molly asked.  
Dr. Erikson smiled. “We both know you are qualified enough to be a doctor. I have surgeries to perform. I don’t have enough free time to try and take care of a man who isn’t dying. Besides, I thought you would be the best for this job.”  
“Thank you sir. I’ll try not to let you down.”   
“You won’t.” Dr. Erikson said before leaving Molly alone with the injured man. Molly stood there awkwardly, playing with her dress. She looked around the room, trying to find something to do. In the corner she found a small stool that she placed at the foot of the cot and waited for the man to wake up. 

Molly was jolted awake by panicked cries. “What’s going on?! Where am I?! What happened?!” The patient, ‘Sherlock Holmes’, Molly reminded herself was trying to get off of the cot with little success. Every time he moved, he would hiss in pain and seemed to find a new injury. He began to waver and seemed as if he was going to faint. Molly ran over and began pushing him back onto the cot. “There was an explosion and-“  
“Who are you? What are you doing?” He asked trying to keep himself upright. When Molly put her hand on his chest and tried to push him back down he grimaced in pain. “I’m sorry” Molly said quietly and backed away from the cot. This left Sherlock reclining slightly with one leg on the cot and one leg off. He sat there in silence before whispering “I can’t remember my name.”   
“You might have shot term memory loss. You did hit your head pretty hard.” Molly gave a reassuring smile while her eyes drifted to a large bruise on his head “Your name is Sherlock Holmes and my name is Molly Hooper. Now, I’m going to get some anesthetic and look at your injuries, okay?”  
“My mind is all I have; without it I have nothing.” Sherlock’s breathing picked up and so did his heart rate. He lifted his hand to find that it was shaking and turned in panic to Molly. Molly took his hand in hers. “You’re going to be okay. Your memory will come back soon, you just need to give it a little time. I promise, you are going to be just fine.” Sherlock felt himself calm down and nodded. Molly slowly let go of his hand to make sure he was still ok. She gave his a reassuring nod and quickly left the room to get some supplies for his injuries. She came back with rolls of bandages, a rag, and a bowl of warm water.  
“I’m going to roll up your pants leg and I’m going to clean the large wound. I’m only going to look at the large cuts. The smaller once we can deal with later on.” After his pants were up to his knee she dunked the rag in the water and began to wipe the blood off. Sherlock hissed in pain and gripped the side of the bed. “Sorry” she whispered before continuing.   
“Do you mind if I take a look at your chest?” Molly asked as she finished wrapping Sherlock’s leg.   
“That’s rather forward don’t you think, Ms. Hooper?” He smirked. She looked at the ground, feeling her face reddening.   
“You know what I meant.” She replied quietly. Sherlock smiled and began to attempt to take his shirt off.   
“Let me do that.” Molly said as she watched Sherlock grimace. She nimbly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his arms trying to cause his the least amount of pain. “Sorry”  
“You seem to have a habit of apologizing for doing your job. It’s quite annoying.”   
“Sor-” Sherlock gave her a look “Yes I do…I’m going to check to see if you have any broken ribs on your right side. It’s going to hurt.” Sherlock nodded and she began gently prodding him. She tried to ignore the sounds of pain he was making and bite her tongue to stop from apologizing.   
“I can’t tell anything. We’ll have to wait for the swelling to go down. For now, I can clean you up and wrap the cut.” She was just beginning to bandage his chest when Dr. Erikson came in with another man. Sherlock sat up straighter and blurted out “Mycroft?!”   
“Hello dear brother.” Mycroft said, swinging an umbrella. “Now, Ms. Hooper, I’d like to make a proposition.”  
“Um…anything sir” Molly said as she continued to wrap Sherlock.  
“I’d like to take my brother home…now.”  
“Right now?” Molly tied the bandage off and turned to Mycroft, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.   
“Yes, Ms. Hooper” Mycroft sighed “right now.”  
“But your brother is hurt. He is in no condition to travel, let alone leave his bed for a long period of time. He has gashes all over the left side of his body, bruising and possible a broken rib or two-”   
“A broken rib?” Mycroft turned to Dr. Erikson “You didn’t say anything about a broken rib.” Dr. Erikson shrugged “I told you she’s smart.”  
Mycroft turned and scrutinized Molly. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Dr. Erikson “Does our decision from before stand?”  
“That’s not mine to make. It’s hers.” He nodded towards Molly. “Ms. Hooper, seeing as my brother is in a battered condition” Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes “I suggested to Dr. Erikson that you accompany us home and take care of my dear little brother until he is completely healed. Do you agree?”  
“I can’t just…I can’t just leave the hospital.”  
“We will pay you, Ms. Hooper.”  
“This is a very good opportunity Molly” Dr. Erikson interrupted.   
“The hospital cannot spare doctors and almost all of the nurses are incompetent for the condition of my brother. You obviously have the qualifications to be a doctor and Dr. Erikson recommended you, so the question is, are you coming or not?” Mycroft said, tapping his umbrella on the ground.  
“But I won’t be there for a long time.”  
“Mycroft can’t take care of me” Sherlock explained to Molly “he’ll leave as soon as we get back home; ‘Government business’ apparently. My mother is incapable of taking care of me so someone else will have to take care of me”   
“…okay, I’ll come.”  
“Good. We’re leaving now.” Mycroft turned and began to walk away.


	3. Chapter 2

“Get your possessions together and we will leave on the next train. There is a car waiting for us outside.” Mycroft waved his hands at Molly as he left. “I’ll take care of him.” Dr. Erikson motioned to the sullen Sherlock “You go get your things.”

“Mycroft this is ridiculous. I don’t need some nurse to take care of me.” Sherlock yelled as he staggered towards the car, leaning on Molly. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”  
“Need I remind you of the summer when you were twelve? You got sick and refuses to get out of bed.” Mycroft yelled back, getting into the car  
“I had pneumonia.” Sherlock snapped, as Molly slowly helped him into the car.  
“You wouldn’t stop complaining”  
“I was dying.”  
Molly gave a small smile and turned back to the hospital. She was going to miss it there. Sure, working with dying soldiers had some down sides, but she really liked some of the people there. Dr. Erikson had become almost like a father to her and he always made sure she was ok.  
“Are you done reminiscing or shall we make camp?” Sherlock asked, his tone condescending.  
“I’m done” Molly replied, getting into the car. As they drove off, she watched as the home she had known for almost three years disappeared into the distance. 

 

After they had safely gotten on the train and settled Sherlock into a position that was as comfortable as possible, he had quickly fallen asleep. This left Molly and Mycroft to discuss the particulars of her duties. Mycroft promised to open a bank account for her in town and just deposit her money straight into it. When he told her the amount that he was planning on paying her each month she thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head. “That…that will do just fine Mr. Holmes” she replied feeling flustered.  
Mycroft gave her a sincere smile “I thought as much.” He turned to look at the window and Molly took this as a sign that most of their journey was going to be spent in silence. She settled into her and was soon drifting off to sleep.

“We will be there shortly.” Mycroft said, as he climbed into a nice looking car. They had gotten off of the train and were met at the station by a driver. Apparently, Mrs. Holmes had gotten wind of her son’s condition and insisted that their private driver get the boys from the station. Molly had tried not to look so shocked when she realized that she was not going to some little cottage or small house as she had previously expected. ‘What have I gotten myself into to?’ she thought as she got into the car.  
‘I should like to warn you, Ms. Hooper, that my mother can be something…of a handful” Mycroft said, trying to put it delicately. “I’m sure she will take to you instantly, but don’t not be offended when she is blunt.”  
“She’ll insist on buying you new clothes, of course. She can’t you running around in the rags you have now” Sherlock told her.  
“Rags?” Molly turned to him, trying not to feel too offended.  
“Of course rags” Sherlock scoffed “You’re an orphan. There is no way that you actually own a decent piece of clothing. Everything you have is old and used; probably doesn’t fit you correctly either. We can’t have a heathen running around our house. We have a reputation to uphold.”  
“Sherlock” Mycroft warned when he saw the hurt look on Molly’s face “It’s not like they will be many of Mummy’s friends around for miles.”  
“What do you mean?” Molly turned to Mycroft.  
“We can’t go to London; too many bombs being dropped there. We have a summer home in Norwich-“  
“Yes I understand that” Molly replied simply “I know we are in Norwich…I just didn’t realize that you all live far away from each other.”  
“We own five hundred acres. Most of the wealthy own at least that. Our manor is smaller than some but we have the most land. It’s quite well known between the richer of the country” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I suppose a person of…more common birth wouldn’t know that.”  
“No I wouldn’t.” Molly replied. There was a moment where Sherlock and Molly just looked at each other, in some kind of battle of wits. The moment passed, however, and everyone went back to staring out the window. 

“Sherlock, my darling!” Molly watched as an elegant, white-haired woman came running out of the door to grab Sherlock in a bear hug. “Hello Mummy” he mumbled into the woman shoulder. Molly tried to keep her mouth from opening in shock at the sight of the house. The front yard was larger than the orphanage she had spent most of her childhood at. There were stone steps leading to the large front doors. There was three stories of tan bricks with many windows spotting the house. Molly could hear the sound of water trickling somewhere behind the house, presumably a fountain. Flower boxes dotted the lower windows with every assortment of flower Molly had ever seen.  
“And this must be Ms. Hooper” Mrs. Holmes said as she let go of Sherlock and caught sight of Molly. She faltered slightly and soon composed herself. No one else took notice of it. “It’s so wonderful for you to be here. We will have to go to town tomorrow, of course, to get you some new dresses and skirts.”  
“Oh no ma’am, I can’t let you do that for me.”  
“Think nothing of it.” Mrs. Holmes waved her hand. “Now, Sherlock, I’d like to discuss some things with Mycroft, privately. I’ll have Ms. Hopper take you up to your room to rest. Should I have one of the servants draw a bath?”  
“No mother, I shall be perfectly fine.” Sherlock said as he stumbled his way through the front door. Mrs. Holmes ignored him and called for one of the servant girls to make sure a bath was ready for him. Sherlock gritted his teeth and began to make his way towards the stairs. Molly set her bag down with an apologetic look to Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes before jogging to Sherlock.  
“Here let me help” Molly said bringing his arms around her shoulder.  
“I don’t need your help.” Sherlock snapped, trying not to lean on Molly.  
“Ok” Molly said, not changing her position at all. When they came to the stairs, Sherlock tried to wrench himself free from Molly’s grasp with little success.  
“We’re going to take it one step at a time” Molly said quietly, feeling as Sherlock leaned heavily upon her as they went up the step.  
“I know how to climb the stairs!” Sherlock snapped. This cycle went on until they were about halfway up the stairs.  
“I don’t know why you insist on helping me. It’s idiotic. I don’t need any help.”  
“Of course you don’t” Molly replied calmly, refusing to let go of him. Sherlock huffed in annoyance. Slowly they made their way to the top of the stairs. When they got to the top Sherlock inclined his head to the right. “Room’s down that way”. Molly nodded and slowly made their way to the door. A girl servant appeared from behind the door and gave a squeak when she found herself face to face with Molly.  
“The bath is ready Master Sherlock” she curtsied and scampered away.  
“I don’t know why you insist on helping me.” Sherlock grunted as they made their way into his room. “Because I’m an idiot” Molly replied, setting him on the four poster bed. “Now, do you not need my help with the bath too?” Sherlock look up at her slight smile and gave her a glare.

Unknown to both of them, Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes had watched the whole affair.  
“She may just be to handle him” Mrs. Holmes smiled. “She is going to surprise us, I can guarantee it.”


	4. Chapter 3

“You’d think, being a nurse, you would have more experience with the male anatomy” Sherlock smirked.  
“Just take the towel” Molly said as she handed a large, fluffy towel through the partly closed door to the bathroom. She made sure to stare out the bedroom window so there was no way of seeing anything, even though the door was barely open.   
“I still don’t understand why you insisted on staying outside the door.” Sherlock replied, his hand brushing hers as he took the towel. Molly retracted her hand faster than she thought possible, bringing it to her chest. She could feel her cheeks getting warmer and busied herself with finding Sherlock some clothes. “I could have fallen and hurt myself. Bathtubs are very dangerous” Sherlock tried to sound like he was teasing her, but it really just came out flat. He stared at the white bathroom door, trying to figure out why she would flinch away from him.  
“Just get my pajamas and my dressing gown” Sherlock said as he dried himself off.   
“Your brother said that you would be expected downstairs for dinner. He said that you had to look presentable.” Molly replied, confused.  
“Just do as I say.”   
Molly gave a sigh and pulled out a pair of pajamas; white with blue stripes.   
“Leave your shirt off. I have to bandage your chest again.” Molly said to the white bathroom door as she picked up a blue dressing gown from the floor. Sherlock rolled his eyes and snorted. “I don’t see why you have this ridiculous notion that I am some damaged puppy in need of help.”  
Molly didn’t respond and just handed the clothes through the door. Sherlock soon appeared, stepping through the door and sitting down on his bed. Molly got the medicine and applied it to the cut on his chest. She gently poked his side trying to check for broken ribs again. Sherlock stiffened and grunted when she began to poke harder.   
“Sorry” she whispered backing away slightly. She slowly finished wrapping his chest and when she was done, she took care of his leg. Sherlock watched as she fretted over him, enjoying the way her eyebrows creased as she assessed the damage to his body. Her lips would move slightly as she mouthed what she was finding. He could see as she assessed how long it would take it to heal, the exact way the debris must have hit him to give him the injury. He was shocked when he found that he was smiling. He hadn’t genuinely smiled in years, and this girl whom he had known not even known for a day had brought a smile to his face.   
“Do you need something for your head?” Sherlock heard Molly asked quietly. He shook himself out of his own thoughts and looked down to see Molly staring at him.   
“No. The pain has ebbed enough.” Sherlock replied, not taking his eyes off of Molly. Molly tried to tell herself to stop staring at Sherlock, but to no avail. She wasn’t sure how long both of them stayed where they were when she heard a knock on the door. Molly jumped up and walked over to the window. Sherlock cleared his throat. “Come in”  
The same servant from before entered and curtsied. “Master Holmes is expected in the dining room.” The girl began to walk out the door when Molly called after her.  
“Um…Master Holmes is not in the condition to be going up and down the stairs. Tell Mrs. Holmes that I will be down to collect some food for him.” The girl nodded and gave one last curtsy before leaving the room.   
“Why did you do that?” Sherlock asked.  
“You really are in no condition to be moving too much” Molly replied “…besides, you were trying to make your brother angry by showing up in pajamas.” Molly said the last partly quietly, worried about the way Sherlock was going to take it.   
“Am I really that obvious?” Sherlock smiled leaning back onto his bed.  
Molly just gave a small smile. “I’ll go get your food.”

Molly walked into the kitchen to see an old woman running around grabbing the food for diner.   
“Here, let me help you” Molly said grabbing a large, silver tray with potatoes.   
“I’m here to bring some food up to-“  
“To Sherlock, of course. I already sent someone up with some food. I expected it wouldn’t be good for him to come downstairs”  
“Oh…well I’m Molly”   
“I know who you are sweetie” the woman smiled. Molly retracted slightly, giving a confused look.   
“Word travels fast in this house” the woman explained. “I’m Mrs. Hudson, the cook. And you are Molly Hooper, the nurse that’s been hired to take care of Sherlock.”  
“Lovely to meet you.” Molly smiled.  
“You’ve got your work cut out for you. Once his wounds start healing, the whining will begin. He hates being uncomfortable.” Mrs. Hudson gave a small smile as she reminisced. “I remember once, when he was about five-years-old, he fell down and skinned his knee pretty well. Not a tear came out of his eyes, but dear God did the boy complain. ‘I can’t think like this, Mrs. Hudson’ he would yell. ‘Make it better this instant!’” Mrs. Hudson let out a laugh. “I swear that boy will be the death of us all.”   
Molly gave a small laugh. “I consider myself warned.” 

“Ah, there you are Ms. Hooper. I wondered where you were.” Mrs. Holmes smiled as Molly entered the dining room behind Mrs. Hudson “And I see you’ve meet our dear cook” Molly nodded and set down the food on the table that was already laden with food. There was more food than Molly had ever seen and she had to try hard not to let herself droll.  
“You are dismissed, Mrs. Hudson.” Mrs. Holmes interrupted Molly’s thoughts, and she watched as Mrs. Hudson walked back to the kitchen. “Molly dear, I thought you would eat with us.”  
Molly nodded slowly and took a seat by Mrs. Holmes, noticing that Mycroft was at the head of the table.   
“Now tomorrow we’ll take the car and get you fitted for some clothes. I can’t have you running around in a dirty nurse’s uniform, dear.” Mrs. Holmes said as Molly filled her mouth with some turkey. She swallowed and slowly responded “Really, I can’t let you do that. There’s no way I can repay you.”  
“My dear” Mrs. Holmes took her hand “You are here taking care of my youngest son, who I was afraid was never going to come back to me alive. You have already repaid me in every respect. Besides, I always thought it would be fun to have a daughter.”  
“Thank you ma’am…thank you very much.”

Hours later Molly was laying in her large, four poster bed. After a quite dinner, Mrs. Holmes had led her to her own room. Molly had felt her jaw drop at the beauty of the room. She had seen Sherlock’s room, but she never expect hers to be of the same quality. Her room was had dark hardwood and a large area rug covering the ground. Her bed had a baby blue duvet and crisp white sheets. Her minimum amount of clothes was set in a beautiful wardrobe and she soon found that she had her own bathroom.   
‘This must be a dream.’ Molly thought to herself as she felt herself falling asleep ‘This is too good to be true.”  
Soon, however, she was awoken by muffled screams. She slowly got out of her bed, making sure she got to the door without falling over anything. When she opened her door and rub the sleep out of her eyes, she realized that she had no way of lighting her path. She gave a sigh and slowly made her way down the hallway. Thankfully, the servants had left some of the window blinds open, so she navigated most of her way by moonlight. She was down the hallway when she realized that she was walking to Sherlock’s room. She began to run, realizing exactly what was going on. When she came to his door she swung it open and ran over to the bed. She could see, by the light of the moon, Sherlock writhing in his sheets and clutching his pillow.   
“Sherlock!” she began shaking him “Sherlock wake up! It’s just a nightmare!”  
Sherlock groaned and shot up, grabbing Molly’s hand in a death grip. He was breathing hard and he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He looked up to find Molly staring down at him, her eyes large in concern. He noted that her hair was in a braid, parted to the side. ‘It looks good like that’ he found himself thinking. Her nightgown was obviously passed down to her, seen in the yellowing color and the random stains.  
“It’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” Molly said softly, running her thumb over Sherlock’s clamped hand, trying to soothe him.   
Sherlock gulped and turned his head away from her.   
“Was it about the war? Something like what happened when you were injured?”  
Sherlock’s head shot back to look at her, shocked that she could guess something like that.  
“So it was. Anything else?” Molly asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. Sherlock just stared at her. “You aren’t going to talk about it are you?”  
Sherlock gave her a small smile that soon disappeared as he began thinking about the nightmare again. It had all been so real.   
“Okay…” Molly let go of his hand and thought for a moment “Would you like some tea?”  
“What?” Sherlock said, breathless.   
“Well, whenever I had a bad dream, I would sneak downstairs at the orphanage and make myself a little cup of tea. It always made me feel better.”  
“So you’re trying to help me avoid my problems by making me drink tea.”  
“It’s either that, or I can keep asking about your nightmare. Your choice.”  
“I’ll be right there.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock got out of bed and was leaning to get his dressing gown, but Molly beat him to it. “Let me” she said quietly as slowly helped him get his arms into it and came to stand in front of him, unsure what she should do with the strings.   
“Do you want it to be untied or should I-“  
“No…no it’s fine that way it is” Sherlock replied clearing his throat. Molly could feel her cheeks getting red again and gave him a nod. ‘Why does that always happen with him?’ she thought as she went to retrieve a blanket.   
“What is that for?”  
“It’s in case I get cold” Molly smiled sweetly, before putting Sherlock’s arm over her shoulder and beginning to help him out of the room. As soon as they made their way to the stairs Sherlock began to complain.  
“How on earth are we going to get down the stairs in the dark?”  
“I think I can get down a couple of stairs without my slight, thank you very much.”  
“And what if I decided I don’t want to go downstairs?”  
“You don’t have much of a choice now do you?” Molly gave him a cheeky smile before hauling him down the stairs as safely as possible.

“I think I’ve figured this out” Sherlock said as he took a sip of his tea. They had both snuck down to the kitchen where Molly made tea as quietly as she possible could. She had been talking in whispers but when Sherlock had told her that everyone was probably already sound asleep, she visibly relaxed. “You’re trying to bribe me so that I will talk about my nightmare. I’m not so ignorant to fall for a plot such as that.”  
“No, actually I just thought it would calm you down…However if you wanted to talk-“  
“I don’t” Sherlock snapped and took a drink of his tea.  
“That’s fine.” Molly replied quickly. “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to. But holding your feelings in will do you no good.”  
“Ms. Hooper, you will soon find that I am quite adapt at ‘keeping my feelings in’ and dispelling them rather quickly. I am quite heartless.”  
“No you aren’t” Molly replied, confused as to why he would think that.  
“What?” Sherlock was about to take another drink of tea, but his head shot up to stare at Molly.  
“You aren’t heartless. I’ve meet people who would be considered heartless and you don’t even begin to match up to them.”  
“How would you know?”   
“While you were sleeping, Mycroft mentioned you friend, John Watson. See, even when I say his name, your face softens. You are in no way heartless.”  
“Well, thank you…I suppose.”  
“You’re welcome I suppose…now if you could just tell me where a sitting room is-“  
“Are you trying to make me go to sleep again?”  
“Where is a sitting room?”  
“Are you?!”  
Molly rolled her eyes and went out the kitchen door and glanced down the hall using the light from the kitchen to see. When she was satisfied that she had found what she was looking for she went back. She silently made Sherlock get up and began to walk him down the hall.   
“I can’t believe you!”  
“People are trying to sleep” Molly whispered back, feeling like she was chastising a child.   
“I am about to be forced to sleep against my will” Sherlock said as they entered the sitting room; thankfully there was a couch. Molly was soon attempting to push Sherlock onto.  
“I don’t need to sleep.”  
“Yes you do.”  
“No, I don’t”  
“Look, I’ve been hired to take care of you. You have been hurt quite seriously and need to rest.” Molly grabbed a pillow off of the chairs nearby and put it under Sherlock’s head. He began to interrupt, but Molly just shook her head. “Not to mention that you never usually got enough sleep anyways. You were just awoken by a nightmare and you are afraid that you are going to have it again when you go to sleep. That’s right, I can deduce things too.” Her expression softened and she reached to take Sherlock’s hand “Your stomach is full of something warm and the scenery has changed; the nightmare won’t happen again. And if it does, I’ll be right here to help you, I promise.” She was about to put the blanket on his when he asked “What are you doing?”  
“Trying to keep you warm.”   
“I have a dressing gown. You use the blanket” Molly raised her eyebrows “Oh, don’t give me that look. Just do as I ask. “  
Molly slowly nodded and settled herself on the floor.   
“So…do I just wait for sleep to take me or something?” Sherlock asked, staring up at the ceiling.   
“That is usually what happens, yes.”  
There was a moment of silence before Sherlock interrupted it. “This is boring.”  
“You could talk about your childhood to relieve the boredom.” Molly leaned on her elbow, not wanting to get up from the floor.  
“God no. I’ll never be that bored.” Sherlock scoffed turning his head in her direction.  
“I could talk about my childhood.” Molly laid back down.  
“I doubt there’s anything I don’t already know.”  
“What did you do when you got bored in the army?”  
“Deduced.”  
“What about when you were in the trenches and you already deduced everything?”  
“Not sure. Tried to stay alive, counted the stars, that sort of thing.”  
“You counted the stars?”  
“Once.” Sherlock snapped “I counted the stars once.”  
“How many were there?”  
“Stars?”  
“Mhmm”  
“I don’t remember. I just started to count them.”  
“Do you have a mental picture of it?”  
Sherlock closed his eyes and thought for a moment. “Yes I do.”  
“Then keep your eyes closed and count the stars.”  
“This is ridiculous”  
“Just count the stars.”  
“Okay…one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…Are you still awake?”  
“Yes” Molly yawned, turning onto her left side so that she was facing the couch “Keep going.”  
“Fine. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…” As Sherlock kept counting, his body began to relax. He felt tension he didn’t even know he had, leave his body. By the time he made it to twenty, he was whispering the numbers. By thirty, he was no longer saying the words aloud. And by forty, he was fast asleep. 

“Mrs. Hudson have you seen Sherlock? Or even Ms. Hooper?” Mrs. Holmes said as she entered the kitchen the next morning.   
“No. I haven’t seen them since yesterday.”  
“Well, John Watson is coming to visit. He heard that Sherlock had been let out and thought it would be good to pop in for a visit.”  
“Shall I prepare the sitting room miss?”  
“Yes please.”  
Mrs. Hudson nodded and made her way down the hall. She opened the door and was about to start cleaning when she noticed a figure laying on the couch.   
“Mrs. Holmes” she whispered down the hallway “You might want to come see this.”  
Mrs. Holmes gave her a confused look, but made her way down the hall. When she saw Sherlock lying on the couch and Molly wrapped up in the blanket, she couldn’t help but smile.   
“I haven’t seen him sleep that soundly in years” Mrs. Hudson whispered. “He must have been the one making all that noise last night. I was going to get up, but just when I was about to, the noise stopped.”  
“You did the right thing Mrs. Hudson. Molly knew just how to take care of him. Here” Mrs. Holmes began backing out of the door “we should let them get a little more sleep.”  
Mrs. Hudson nodded and followed, closing the door behind her as she had one last glance of the dreaming Sherlock and Molly.


	6. Chapter 5

“Will that be all ma’am?”   
“Yes, thank you” Mrs. Holmes said as she paid the shop owner and quietly walked Molly outside.   
“You didn’t have to buy me all this.”  
“My dear, I’ve only bought you twelve dresses.” Mrs. Holmes smiled with mock innocence.  
“Twelve everyday dress, six pairs of skirts and shirts, five party dress, seven pairs of shoes, and a large amount of jewelry only in the last week. I really can’t take this all from you. This is too much.”  
“You aren’t used to people pampering you.”  
“As an orphan, I could hardly expect much from anyone.”   
“I think it’s high time you had a little pampering.” Mrs. Holmes smiled. Molly slowly followed her down the street. “My boys aren’t exactly the most romantic of men and as you can tell, and I never had a daughter. I have to pamper someone, so I hope you will get used to it.”   
“Thank you ma’am.”  
“Please call me Violet.”   
“Yes ma-I mean Violet.” Molly smiled. She liked Mrs. Holmes and her odd ways. She was a lot blunter than any woman Molly had ever met, but she was also the cheeriest. She didn’t fake emotions and Molly knew she was a very honest woman. 

Molly had barely seen the inside of the house for the last five days. Mrs. Holmes insisted that they go out every day right after breakfast to get started on the shopping. Each day, they searched for something in particular. Of course, everything they bought had to be fitted to Molly perfectly. Mrs. Holmes hadn’t told Molly; she had simply said that was how it worked when asked by Molly why they couldn’t just take the clothes with them.  
After Mrs. Hudson had awoken her and while she was dressing, Mrs. Hudson had caught her up on the Holmes’s family tree. Both Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were from large money, but Mrs. Holmes had refused to let her children be raised by another woman. Sure, Mycroft and Sherlock had had nannies when they were little, but Mrs. Holmes always made sure to take the time for her children. Mr. Holmes was “a bit of an alcoholic” as Mrs. Hudson had put it. “He reformed though. Sherlock went off to war and he made sure that he cleaned up in his absence. I think that’s one of the reasons he hasn’t visited yet. He’s afraid of what Sherlock thinks of him.”  
That was all Mrs. Hudson had been able to tell her before Molly left for town, running after a very excited and determined Mrs. Holmes. Molly followed behind Mrs. Holmes taking in the familiar sights of the many shops and people. She hadn’t had much opportunity to get out of the orphanage when she was there. 

“Come along Molly.” Violet yelled back. Molly realized that she had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and quickly ran to catch up with Mrs. Holmes.   
“The car should be just around this corner. Unless of course, you want to keep shopping, of course.”   
“No-no that’s fine. We’ll just head back.”   
Mrs. Holmes rounded the corner and waved to the driver. She handed him the few boxes she had in her hand and explained that someone would be up to the house to deliver the rest of the clothing in the evening.  
“Can you tell me about the orphanage?” Mrs. Holmes asked as the car began to move. When Molly gave her an unsure look she quickly added “Don’t say anything if it makes you uncomfortable.”  
“Honestly, there isn’t much to tell.” Molly shrugged.  
“Were you close with many people at the orphanage?”  
“Not really…I helped teach the younger children from time to time, so I was closer to them. However, I was close to Miss Mattie, the founder of the orphanage. “  
“You didn’t get along with children your age?”  
“Not really, but there weren’t many children mat age there.”  
“You were older when you were orphanage.” It was statement, and Molly felt the blood drain from her face.   
“How did you know that?” she asked in hushed voice.  
“The way you talk about it made it seem that way. Also, Sherlock told me that this morning.”  
Molly’s eyes grew larger. “He knows?”  
“Yes. He was trying to show off by telling me what he deduced about you. But if it makes you feel better, it wasn’t as much as he usually knows. You have him puzzled.”  
Molly nodded absentmindedly and the car went into a silence.  
“I was nine.”  
“What dear?”  
“I was nine when I first arrived at the orphanage.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Why are you apologizing?” Molly asked, genially confused.  
“Because you still remember them; your parents.”  
“Yes” she whispered. “Yes I do.”

 

“What on earth took you so long?!” Sherlock asked, laying on the couch in the sitting room, his hands steepled under his chin.  
“I had to get adequate clothes for Molly.” Mrs. Holmes said as she walked over the Sherlock “No shoes on the couch young man, what have I told you about that?!” She swatted Sherlock’s feet off of the couch. Sherlock huffed in annoyance, but listened to his mother.   
“Why do you have this need to put your feet on the couches?”  
“I suppose it’s my inner rebel trying to create anarchy.” Sherlock replied, sarcastically.   
“Mycroft never put his feet on the couch” Violet mumbled.  
“Mycroft listen to your every beck and call so that he would appear to be the angel of the family! It was ghastly to behold.”   
Molly tried to cover her laugh into a cough. When Sherlock gave her an odd look she apologized. “Sorry…must be getting down with something” she averted her eyes to ground.  
“I want you to be on your best behavior. John Watson is coming to visit you today.”  
“I know.”  
Mrs. Holmes huffed “You ruined the surprised.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sherlock replied sarcastically “How wonderful! I never would have guessed it!”   
“Be nice you your mother.” Molly replied rolling her eyes “And admit you’re glad to see John Watson.” Both Mrs. Holmes and Sherlock turned to stare at her. She started to get a little uncomfortable, and began to play with her fingers. She looked down at the floor and waited for someone to say something. Nothing happened. She began to notice patterns in the hard wood floor. ‘Long, long, short, medium…longish short-‘  
“How did you know I’d be glad to see him?” Sherlock questioned, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.   
“I was just guessing” Molly sputtered, giving a quick glace to Sherlock “You didn’t make a face when your mother said his name so I thought-“  
“Make a face?”  
“Yes. I’ve noticed that whenever you talk about something that you don’t like, you make a…frown.”  
“And when have I made a frown?”  
“Usually talking about Mycroft… or when you get annoyed with something.” Molly gave Sherlock a small smile and he couldn’t help but smile back. “I accept your deduction as correct.” Sherlock said.   
“So what is this John Watson like?”  
“Now you’re trying to get me to talk about my past? Tut tut Ms. Hooper, I’d thought you’d deduce it with your new skills.”  
Molly’s face fell a little until she realized that Sherlock was teasing her. “I was just curious.”  
“Curiosity killed the cat.”   
“Then it’s lucky that I’m not a cat” Molly grinned and waited for Sherlock to reply.   
While this was happening, Mrs. Holmes stood to the side and watch the two. She was slightly shocked to see Sherlock respond to Molly. He seemed…comfortable talking to Molly. He wasn’t comfortable talking like this with anyone but John.   
Sherlock was about to respond when Mrs. Homes interrupted.  
“How about you show Ms. Hooper around the house. She hasn’t had the chance to see the whole house.”   
Sherlock grumbled but made his way to the door. “Are you coming on not?” He turned to Molly. She gave ‘sorry’ and followed him swiftly out of the room. When they got to the stairs Sherlock stopped and turned to Molly, waiting. She gave him a confused look as he rolled his eyes and grudgingly put his arm over her shoulder.   
“It seems I may be in need of some assistance and seeing as you are my nurse, you have to help me” he said, trying to sound annoyed. Molly rolled her eyes, but wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him up the stairs.   
“How are you feeling?” She asked him quietly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around to help you. Your mother is rather insistent.”  
“I’m doing fine.” Sherlock replied. Molly nodded her head and they feel into silence until they got to the top of the stairs. “It’s to the right” Sherlock motioned with his head and they slowly began to make their way down the hallway.   
“Have you had anymore nightmares? I haven’t been awoken by them, but I’ve been sleeping heavily.”  
“It should be right down this way” Sherlock said, ignoring her question.  
“If you have one, you can come to me. I’m here to help you. All you have to do is tell me what you need.” Molly said. Sherlock was surprised at the sincerity of her words and had to stop himself from turning to look at her. He was afraid if he saw her, he would start to spill the truth.   
He hadn’t slept ever since the night they had fallen asleep together. He couldn’t take the risk of having nightmares; she might hear him. So he just stayed up the whole night, occasionally reading, doing experiments, anything he could find to keep his mind occupied. He had been eating poorly too. He never ate well in the first place; slowed down his mind. But he found that he didn’t really have any apatite. He just felt so…bored. Practically everything was boring now; just plain old civilian life.  
“Sherlock, if you need anything, you need to let me know.” Molly lightly touched his shoulder, hoping that he would turn around. He just flinched away.  
“Here we are.” He said, facing two wooden doors. He opened them both out and stepped in. “Welcome to our library.”


	7. Chapter 6

Molly took a step forward and immediately felt her mouth drop. The room was huge with large windows, letting in light. Some of the windows, she noticed, were equipped with a window seat so that someone could read by the window. There were dark, wood bookcases that almost reached the ceiling. The room had a large area rug with intricate designs of beautiful flowers. There were leather bound books that Molly was sure must be incredibly expressive. There was encyclopedias and medical textbooks and books on chemistry. There was a whole section that was given just for novels and even some in different languages. Molly saw books that she remembered hearing the doctors at the hospital speak of, and even saw some she remember hearing about in her childhood. She was elated to find a beautiful copy of fairytales nestled in-between a foreign novel and a children’s book. She pulled it out delicately, afraid of hurting the book. She leafed through the pages remembering reading some of them to the other orphans.  
“Do you like it?” Sherlock asked quietly. Molly jumped, forgetting that someone else was in the library with her.   
“I love it.” She replied, breathlessly.  
“What have you got in your hand?”  
“Oh, Grimm’s Fairytales. When I was younger, I used to read them the other children. A women donated an old copy that was tattered and torn, so we couldn’t make all of the stories out. We used to sit there and make up the stories that were missing.” Molly felt her eyes getting misty as she thought about the nights when all of the children had gather together. It had been some of the happiest moments of her childhood.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually read Grimm’s Fairytales” Sherlock admitted.   
Molly’s eye got big. “A whole library full of books and you’ve never read Grimm’s Fairytales?!”  
“No, I haven’t” Sherlock chuckled.  
“You have to read it right now!” Molly said, trying to user Sherlock to a seat.  
“Right at this moment?!” Sherlock asked, surprised at Molly’s strength as she pushed him over to one of the window seats.  
“Yes, and when you’re done you have to tell me what you think.”  
“What if I don’t want to read the fairytales?” Sherlock asked as he plopped down in the seat.  
“Why wouldn’t you want to read the fairytales?”  
“Because…because they’re all mushy and lovey…and stuff” Sherlock said waving his hands in the air.  
“Oh, God” Molly whispered “It’s worse than I thought. You have no idea what actual fairytales are like do you?”  
“Apparently not.” Sherlock teased.   
“Little Red Riding Hood gets eaten.” Molly said, her face void of any emotion.   
“What?”   
“In the story; Little Red Riding Hood gets eaten. That’s hardly mushy.”  
“But they all have a mushy happy ending,”  
“Not all of them. In ‘The Little Mermaid’ by Hans Christian Anderson, the mermaid commits suicide.”   
“Really?”  
“Yes. Most of these stories were not made for children.”  
“Why are they some important to you?”  
Molly’s face paled a little. “Wh-what do you mean?” Molly stuttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s like you’ve handed me your baby and are asking me to tell you how beautiful they are.” Sherlock explained. “Why are these stories so important to you?”   
“Well...” Molly started off slowly, avoiding Sherlock’s eye “As a child I realized something early on about the stories. The heroes never knew they were going to get a happy ending; as the reader, we of course expected it, but the characters never knew it. But they do everything anyways. They save the princess or outwit evil even though they may die. They do it because it’s the right thing to do and right always triumphs over evil…And to see that kind of hope, well…it just made me feel better whenever I got sad. I couldn’t help but think that maybe I was a fairytale heroine and I just haven’t gotten to my story yet” Molly blushed, staring at the ground. “I know it’s silly-“  
“I don’t think it’s silly.”  
“You don’t?” Molly finally looked at Sherlock to see a small smile was spreading across his lips.   
“No.”   
There was a moment of silence as Molly processed what he had said. “Thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“I don’t know…just thank you.”  
Sherlock nodded and the room fell into silence once again. Molly took the chance to look of the window. She could see the gardens in the back of the house and saw a fountain trickling water. She could see what she thought were roses and many other flowers. And behind the garden there was a small hill that seemed to lead to a forest. Right on the outskirts of the forest, Molly could make out a tall oak tree.   
Sherlock clearing his throat brought Molly back to the present. “I think it’s time we head downstairs. I’m sure my mother will want to show you the gardens.” He rose stiffly and began to walk out the door. Molly nodded and followed him out.  
Molly wrapped her hand around Sherlock’s waist again, and they made their way down the stairs. Right as they reach the bottom of the steps, they heard a knock on the front door. Sherlock and Molly walked to the door to find Mrs. Holmes greeting a blond man and woman.   
“Hello Violet.” the man greeted.  
“John” Sherlock said, his smile growing large. John gave him an equally large smile and walked over to give his friend a gentle hug.   
“I heard what happened to you; don’t want to damage you” John said, giving Sherlock a pat on the back. “You remember Mary Marston.” John said, turning to the blonde women. She flashed a smile and walked through the door.  
“You’re still putting up with him, Mary?” Sherlock teased.  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Mary smiled. There was a short moment of silence before Mary gave a laugh. “Oh, sod it” she said as she walked over and gave Sherlock a hug.   
“So when are you two getting married?” Sherlock asked.  
“This bastard hasn’t even proposed yet.” Mary laughed, pointing to John.  
“I’m working on it.” John smiled back. It was then that he noticed Molly. “Who are you?”  
“I’m Molly Hooper” Molly extended her hand for John to shake. “And..um, I’m here to take care of Sherlock.”   
“So, you’re like her personal nurse or something?” Mary asked.  
“Yes, I suppose so.”  
“That must be horrid” John smiled, missing Sherlock’s eye roll. “He’s a whiner sometimes.”  
“Why doesn’t everyone come into the sitting room?” Mrs. Holmes interrupted, “I can have Mrs. Hudson make some tea.   
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Mary smiled as she followed Mrs. Holmes. John and Sherlock made their after them. Molly stayed hesitantly behind, not sure if the offer was for her too.   
“Come along Molly, dear” Mrs. Holmes said over her shoulder “You don’t want to miss tea.”   
Molly smiled and followed behind, the reluctance gone.


	8. Chapter 7

“So how exactly did you end up here?” Mary asked, turning to face Molly from her position on the couch.  
“When Sherlock came in after his-” Molly saw Sherlock flinch out of the corner of her eye “After his…injuries, Mycroft hired me to take care of Sherlock.”  
“Where is Mycroft?” John asked “Did he already go back to London?”  
“Of course.” Sherlock scowled, who was taking up half of the couch besides Mary.   
“Where is he staying? Has he checked on Baker Street?”  
“He told me that he’s walked past it from time to time. Apparently, it’s doing quite well.” Sherlock replied.  
There was a brief silence before Mary interjected “So how antsy are you without a case?”  
Sherlock turned and glared. “I’m doing quite well.”  
“Oh, come on. You must be going mad.” Mary poked Sherlock’s shoulder, a large grin on her face.  
“I’m fine.” Sherlock grumbled back.   
“Sherlock, I’m not John. You can’t lie to me about these things. So, are you going to take any cases here?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Oh, come on, it’d be fun.” Mary shook his arm slightly, trying to tease him. When Sherlock flinched, Mary backed off slightly.   
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”  
“Are you ok?” Molly was about to spring from her chair, when John beat her to it.   
“What happened? Do you have stiches there?” His hand were hovering over Sherlock’s shoulder.   
“I’m fine.”  
“Are you sure? I can go get some bandages-” Molly said, standing.  
“I’m fine!” Sherlock replied, his voice higher than before.   
“I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I didn’t-” Mary started.  
“Sherlock, if there’s something wrong you have to let us help. You have to let her help!” John pointed to Molly.  
“I’m telling you, I’m fine!” Sherlock yelled.  
“Are you?” Molly asked, quietly. Sherlock’s head snapped in her direction and he let out a frustrated growl.  
“My shoulder is fine.” Sherlock snarled.  
“I wasn’t asking about your shoulder.” Molly whispered, hoping no one heard her. Her hopes were crushed, however when she suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on her.   
Sherlock stood up slowly, and took a deep breath. “You were an orphan at the age of nine. You still remember you parents, but don’t like to talk about them; a side effect of sentiment. You were engaged at a young age, apparent by the slight whitening of the knuckle of your left hand. He broke it off and in the process, broke your heart. There’s that pesky sentiment again. I can’t say I’m surprised. Your obviously incredibly awkward and would make a terrible housewife. You’re certainty not attractive enough to be a wife of any upper class man. Your lips are too small and your breasts are practically nonexistent. Add that with your annoying nagging and you are a man’s worst nightmare. You are being paid to watch over my health, which may I say you are not doing are very good job at. So far you’ve been paid to change a few bandages and go shopping with my mother.”  
Throughout his whole speech, Sherlock had slowly made his way over to Molly until he was towering over her. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw her eyes beginning to glisten, but he shot it down. This was no time for weakness.   
“If you would excuse me…” Molly’s voice broke and she had to take a moment before she could continue “I think I am in need of some fresh air.”  
Molly slowly made her way to the doorway, cognizant of the fact that everyone was watching her.  
“Molly, dear.” Mrs. Holmes called out for her, pity on her every word.  
“I need…I need some fresh air.” And with that, Molly walked out of the room, slowly shutting to door behind her.   
“I hope you’re proud of yourself.” Mrs. Holmes scolded, turning to Sherlock.   
“What?” Sherlock questioned, weakly.   
“That was…you are such an ass.” John said, his hands balled into fists. “She was a nice girl and she was just trying to help. Why did you have to go and scare her away?”  
“Sherlock she didn’t mean anything by it.” Mary said gently “She was just being helpful. You didn’t have to go and deduce the shit out of her.”   
“Are you all going to attack me too?!” Sherlock roared, looking from pitying face to face. When he couldn’t take their stares anymore, Sherlock stomped out of the door.   
“I’m going to my bedroom. Don’t bother me.” He snapped, and slammed the door behind him. 

After a moment Mrs. Holmes gave a sigh. “Just let him go for right now. He’ll be back around eventually. You know how he is.”  
“He hasn’t been eating has he?” Mary asked.  
“No. He hasn’t been sleeping either. Molly’s has noticed it too. She tries to help-”  
“Don’t worry; he’ll go after her.” Mary said calmly.   
“What do you mean?” John inquired.  
Mary just shrugged. “He’ll go after her.”

After spending the rest of the day hiding in his bedroom, Sherlock decided it was high time for him to reappear. He wasn’t sure how much time had passes, but the colors of the sunset out his window gave him a good idea. He had been trying to categorize all the emotions that he seemed to be feeling into his mind palace. However, all he ended up doing was repressing them. He snuck quietly out and made his way down the back stairs that the servants used. He was thankful to find that there was no one lurking there.   
‘They must all be helping for dinner.’ He thought as he quietly slunk down the stairs. When he came to the kitchen, he was slightly put out to find that the door was wide open. He tried to make his way passed as quickly as possible, but heard a noise behind him.  
“She still hasn’t come back.” Mrs. Hudson said, not turning from chopping up some vegetables.   
“Hmm?” Sherlock turned around, straitening up and trying not to seem as suspicious.   
“Molly; she hasn’t come back yet.”   
Sherlock gave a small sigh. “I’m going for a walk.”  
Mrs. Hudson nodded, and watched as he walked out the back door. “Careful dear. If you stay out too long you might get rained on.”   
Sherlock gave an absentminded nod and picked up a piece of bread before heading out.

He searched the gardens and everywhere else, trying to find her. He wasn’t sure why he was on a search. He just found himself looking for her. He had even thought about searching the library when something caught his eye. From the end of the garden, he could see the vast forest behind the house. He could swear that he could make something out in the distance and as he got closer he saw that it was a person. He stopped right in the middle of the lawn when he realized that it was Molly. She was sitting gracefully on one of the lower branches of a tree, her legs hanging over. She was staring wistfully at the sky, the wind blowing her hair. Sherlock took note of the way she looked in the light of the setting sun. He didn’t want to admit it, but she looked beautiful. He began to walk towards her, trying to seem as invisible as humanly possible.  
“Do you usually climb trees in your spare time?” Sherlock asked, coming to the base of the tree. He noticed that Molly’s eyes were still a little red and puffy.  
“Sometimes.” Molly replied, still looking away from Sherlock. Sherlock felt awkward when the conversation went into silence. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, or even how to apologize to her. She wasn’t like John; he couldn’t just give a quick sorry and food. He had really hurt her.  
“I’m-I’m sorry” Sherlock cleared his throat “I’m sorry for what I said before. I didn’t mean it.”   
“I said something out of line.” Molly replied “I shouldn’t have made the comment; this was my fault.”  
“You didn’t deserve to have me tear you apart, though.” Sherlock took another step towards Molly. “I really am very sorry. I like to think that I am very capable of taking care of myself and I don’t like to be proven wrong. But you…you Molly Hooper have proven me wrong. I’d be incredibly grateful if you would continue taking care of me.”  
Molly gave a small smile and turned to Sherlock “You really think I’m going to leave because of one thing?”  
“I mean…I wasn’t sure-“  
“I’m a lot tougher than you’ve anticipated Sherlock Holmes.” Molly’s smile grew and Sherlock felt his mouth form a matching one. “Would you mind moving back a little so I can get down?”  
Sherlock nodded and took a couple of steps back. Molly swung her other leg over the branch and carefully pushed herself out of the tree, landing gracefully on her feet. She brushed off her clothes and when she was done, and they both began to make their way back towards the house.  
“Out of curiosity, why a tree?” Sherlock inquired.  
“Well, whenever I would get angry or upset, Mattie from the orphanage would try to calm me down. One day, she told me to climb a tree to get a differ perspective on the world and I found it really calming. I’ve been doing it ever since.”   
“So they would search the house for you and you’d just be in a tree?”  
Molly gave a nod. “Sometimes I would read up there or just stare at the clouds. It was a nice place if I ever wanted to be alone. No one ever bothered me.”   
Sherlock understood exactly what she was taking about. The feeling of just being alone for once in a very busy house had been some of the nicest moments of his childhood. He remember sneaking food up to his bedroom so he wouldn’t have to come out.  
“Well, I think Mrs. Hudson may have been wrong. The rain seems to be holding off.” Sherlock stared at the darkening sky and just when he finished his sentence, an onslaught of raindrops began to pelt his face. He closed his eyes feeling his annoyance rise as he became completely soaked. He only opened his eyes when he heard chuckling. He turned to see Molly laughing, practically doubled over.   
“You have the worst timing, don’t you?” She chuckled. Her hair, which had been loose, was now sticking to her face and her shirt. She was utterly drenched.  
“Apparently so.” Sherlock said, unamused.   
“Come on” Molly took his hand and began walking towards the house “Or your mother and Mrs. Hudson will think we’ve died of phenomena.” 

“Oh, look at you two! Practically wet to the bones” Mrs. Hudson fretted as she ushered both Molly and Sherlock into the kitchen. “I’ll have the maids draw baths for both of you. I told you to be careful.”  
“I am sorry, Mrs. Hudson but it seems I can’t escape my comedic timing.” Sherlock replied. Molly gave a snort of laughter as Mrs. Hudson stared.  
“What are we going to do with you two?” Mrs. Hudson shook her head, but she had a smile on her face. “I’ll go tell Mrs. Holmes that you two are back. Try not to make any more puddles while I’m gone.”  
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sherlock said to Mrs. Hudson’s retreating figure.


	9. Chapter 8

Molly closed her eyes, feeling as the warm water of the bath soaked into her skin. She grabbed the soap and slowly began to scrub, reveling in the clean feeling. After washing her hair, Molly slowly lifted herself out of the bath. She began to dry herself with a towel, when she heard a knock on the door.  
“It’s Mrs. Hudson dear. Violet told me to bring you a nightgown.”  
“Oh…um thank you. You can just hand it to me.” Molly felt the cool air from the room begin to seep in as Mrs. Hudson cracked the door open. Molly took the immaculate nightgown from Mrs. Hudson and pulled it over her head. She noticed the intricate floral design at the hem and the small flower on the chest.  
“Where did she get this?” Molly asked, exiting the bathroom.   
“Oh, don’t you just look darling.” Mrs. Hudson gushed. “It’s one of her old ones dear.”  
“She didn’t have to do that” Molly whispered as she began to dry her damp hair.  
“Do you need a dressing gown dear?” Mrs. Hudson inquired.  
“May I have a blanket instead, please?”  
“Of course. I’ll go get one for you, dear.” Mrs. Hudson exited the room. Molly picked up a brush from the bedside table and began to brush her hair. She had forgotten how long her hair actually was after wearing it up for so long. It came midway down her back and she could feel the moister beginning to soak into her nightgown. Molly pulled it over her shoulder and began to braid it. Just as she finished, Mrs. Hudson reentered the room with a brown woolen blanket.  
“Thank you.” Molly took the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.  
“Mrs. Holmes said she sent some food to Sherlock’s room if you’d like to eat. I’m afraid we’ve already had dinner.”   
“I’ll pop by to get some food. How is he doing?” Molly avoided Mrs. Hudson’s eye, knowing that the woman knew who she was referring to.   
Mrs. Hudson gave a sly grin “He made it up the stairs ok, but I’m afraid there’s going to be puddles all around the house for a month.”  
“That’s good; that’s he’s improved, I mean! Not the part about the puddles.” Molly looked down bashfully. It was at that inopportune time that her stomach decided to grumble.   
Mrs. Hudson chortled. “Why don’t you go get some food? It seems you need it.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Molly said, hesitantly opening Sherlock’s bedroom door.   
“Actually being clean has done wonders for my health.” Sherlock replied. Molly walked through the door to find Sherlock sitting on the edge of his bed wearing his pajama pants. He had taken all of the bandages off and Molly could see the scars. She slowly walked forward and began to inspect them.  
“Is anything sore?” Molly asked as she began to lightly poke and prod Sherlock.   
“None more than usual. I’ve had worse.” Sherlock shrugged, trying to keep himself from grimacing. Molly gave a nod and backed away from Sherlock. He picked up his shirt that was lying next to him and put it on. Molly walked over to the desk where the food was, and began to nibble on a slice of bread.  
“Would you like some?” Molly inclined her head towards the soup and bread on a platter.   
“I’m not partially hungry-”  
“Eat” Molly’s stern voice cut him off, handing him a bowl and spoon. Sherlock’s eyebrows rose, practically disappearing under his damp hair. He swiftly took his food and began to eat it. He almost had to spit it out when the heat of the food contacted with his mouth. He swallowed it quickly, feeling the warm feeling travel down his throat.   
“Potato. Yummy.” Sherlock managed to choke out. Molly turned away, failing to hide her smile.  
“Well, aren’t you going to have some?” Sherlock asked.   
“I was-I was going to bring some to my room-”  
“Stay…please.”  
Molly turned to see Sherlock sitting there staring at her. Molly was shocked to see the vulnerability and openness in Sherlock’s face. She couldn't resist, not after he'd asked her so nicely. So she gave a small nod and went to get herself some soup. She awkwardly stood there with her bowl, eating her soup. After finishing her food and checking to make sure Sherlock had eaten all of his (he had), she quietly placed the bowl back on the tray.  
“So…um, at the risk of making you angry, is it any use asking about your nightmares?” Molly inquired.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sherlock said, his tone void of any emotion.  
“You haven’t been sleeping, that much is obvious. Judging by what happened the first night I was here, I think it’s safe to guess that you’ve been having nightmares. Am I correct?”  
Sherlock sat in silence staring at the wall.  
“Am I correct?” Molly asked again, her tone quieter.  
“Every time I closed my eyes…I had one every time I closed my eyes.” Molly wasn’t sure if Sherlock had actually said it or if she was imagining things.   
“What happened in the dreams?”  
“I don’t-”  
“It will help. I promise…I promise it will help to talk about it.” Molly hesitantly sat next to Sherlock on the end of the bed.   
“Sometimes it’s just a bright light, like just before the explosion. I feel myself falling back just like when I was injured.” Sherlock started, quiet “But this time it doesn’t end. It’s just an explosion and falling, an explosion and falling, over and over and over again until I wake up. Other times it’s been other people in the explosion; John, Mrs. Hudson, even Mary and my family have made appearances. But every once in a while it’s…it’s just…”  
“Yes?” Molly scooted closer to Sherlock, almost touching his shoulder. Her tone was gentle and she placed her hand over Sherlock’s, trying to comfort him.  
“Sometimes it’s just darkness. Everything is black, but for some reason I panic. I just get this overwhelming sense of fear. And this happens every time I try to sleep. I’ve stopped trying to get away from them. They happen every time…the only time they didn’t was when I had tea with you.”   
“You need sleep.” Molly said quietly, subconsciously beginning to rub his back. “Would it make you feel better if you had some warm milk before you go to bed?”  
“I don’t know.”  
Molly sighed. “I’ll read you a story.”  
Sherlock snorted. “I’m not a child.”  
‘And he’s back’ Molly thought to herself as she got off of the bed and walked over to the single bookcase. There, sitting on the middle shelf was Grimm’s Fairytales. If she cared that it had migrated from the library to Sherlock’s room, she didn’t show it.   
“Get under the covers please.”  
“I’m not-”  
“Under the covers, Mr. Holmes.”   
Sherlock rolled his eyes but complied with her wishes. He laid down with his hands folded on the duvet and turned his head towards Molly. “Well?”  
“Which story do you want to hear?” Molly sat down on the bed, covering her legs with the brown blanket.   
“I have absolutely no preference.” Sherlock sassed.   
“Random page it is” Molly muttered to herself, opening the book.  
“It looks like we’re going to be reading ‘Lean Lisa’.” When Sherlock made no sound of disapproval, Molly continued on with the story.  
“Lean Lisa was of a very different way of thinking from lazy Harry and fat Trina, who never let anything disturb their peace. She scoured everything with ashes, from morning till evening, and burdened her husband, Long Laurence, with so much work that he had heavier weights to carry than an ass with three sacks.”  
“She sounds rather boring to me.” Sherlock mumbled. Molly turned and gave him a ‘shhhh’ before continuing.   
“It was, however, all to no purpose, they had nothing and came to nothing. One night as she lay in bed, and could hardly move one limb for weariness, she still did not allow her thoughts to go to sleep.” Molly felt Sherlock bring his arms under the blanket and lay on his side “She thrust her elbows into her husband's side, and said, ‘Listen, Lenz, to what I have been thinking: if I were to find one florin and one was given to me, I would borrow another to put to them, and thou too shouldst give me another, and then as soon as I had got the four florins together, I would buy a young cow.’ This pleased the husband right well.” Molly heard Sherlock yawn and felt herself beginning to yawn. “‘It is true,’ said he, ‘that I do not know where I am to get the florin which thou wantest as a gift from me; but, if thou canst get the money together, and canst buy a cow with it, thou wilt do well to carry out thy project. I shall be glad,’ he added, ‘if the cow has a calf, and then I shall often get a drink of milk to refresh me.’” Molly turned to see that Sherlock’s was dozing off, and a small grin graced her lips. She quietly shut the book and tip-toed over to the bookcase, placing the book back where it came from. She was beginning to pick up the blanket when Sherlock stirred making a slight whine. His brow creased and his mouth morphed into a frown. It was obvious to Molly that a nightmare was beginning.  
‘It wouldn’t do too much harm if I were to sleep in here would it?’ Molly asked herself, looking down at Sherlock.   
‘It wouldn’t be proper…but he needs me…but what would Mrs. Holmes say?!...But he needs me…” Molly argued with herself for seven minutes before finally deciding that more nightmares and sleepless nights weren’t worth the risk of being proper.  
She laid down, staying on top of the duvet (some measure of dignity had to be intact). Wrapping herself in her blanket she soon found herself drifting off to sleep. Just before she lost consciousness, Sherlock gave another small whine. She reached out, took his hand in hers, and fell promptly to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incredibly late shout-out to Neverly_Moore for the lovely review and the 'Lean Lisa' idea. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. It means a lot!


	10. Chapter 9

Molly felt herself waking up, the morning light coming through her eyelids. It didn’t take her long to notice that she was very warm.   
‘This must be a pillow’ she thought to herself as she tried to pull the warm mass closer. Unfortunately, the warm mass was denser than she had fist anticipated. It was then that she noticed that the warm mass was breathing. She halted her movements and squeezed her eyes shut.  
‘That’s not a pillow…Maybe if I just open my eyes slowly’ Molly’s eyes fluttered open to find blue eyes staring right back. Molly, in her shock, made a noise that strongly resembled a whale and instinctively rolled over. Apparently her instincts were strong than she had thought, for instead of just rolling onto her side, she rolled herself right off of the bed. Her hands made a loud noise, hitting the ground, as she landed on her stomach. There was a brief moment of silence, then-  
“What on earth are you doing?” Sherlock asked, honestly confused.  
“I fell off of the bed.” Molly grunted as she stood up.  
“I noticed that. Why are you in here?”  
“Because…well, because you were having nightmares.” Molly refused to turn and look at Sherlock. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see his facial expressions.  
“You stayed in my room because I was having nightmares?”  
“Well, yes-” Molly began to turn when the bedroom door opened.  
“Sherlock, dear I have your breakfast.” Mrs. Hudson stopped short when she saw Molly standing there in her nightgown. “What are you doing in here Ms. Hooper?”  
“Umm…” Molly wasn’t sure how to explain her situation, but Sherlock chimed in.  
“She was sleeping with me.”  
Both Molly and Mrs. Hudson made choking noises.  
“I-We…I didn’t sleep with him…well, I did but it wasn’t under the sheets…” Molly could feel the heat of her face getting stronger and was sure she looked like a tomato. She was about to try explain again when John came into the room.  
“You’ve slept long enough, Sherlock” He smiled until he saw Molly’s blushing face. “What’s going on?”  
“Ms. Hooper slept with Sherlock.” Mrs. Hudson replied, sounding confused.  
“What?!” John coughed.  
“We didn’t…he was having nightmares and-” Molly sputtered.  
“What’s with the racket?” Mary walked into the room.  
“Is everyone in this bloody house going to invade my room?!” Sherlock snapped, still lying in bed.  
John turned to Mary and explained what was going on. When she heard, Mary gave a snort.  
“We didn’t have sex. I was just trying to help.” Molly said weakly.  
“I believe you.” Mary giggled. “I just think this whole situation is hysterical.”   
“So you two didn’t have sex with each other?” Mrs. Hudson asked.  
“NO!” both Sherlock and Molly said at the same time. This caused Mary to laugh even harder.   
“Can I go?” Molly whispered. When she didn’t hear any objections, she walked towards to doorway. When she was halfway down the hall, she heard Mary yelling after her.  
“Molly! Hey Molly!” Mary had to take some deep breaths because she was still laughing so hard. “I’m sorry if I offended you back there. I didn’t mean to be rude.”  
“It’s fine.”  
“You sure?” Mary’s tone was completely serious, any trace of laughter gone.  
“Yeah…to tell you the truth, if I hadn’t been so embarrassed, I would have laughed too.” Molly cracked a smile and so did Mary.   
“I’m going to go get dressed. Meet you downstairs for breakfast?” Mary questioned.  
“I’ll be right there.” Molly nodded and walked to her room. When she closed the door she let herself have a few giggles before she actually started to dress herself.

 

“So where are the boys?” Mrs. Holmes asked. She was dressed in a beautiful purple dress, her white hair in a tight bun. She looked down the table at Mary and Molly, waiting for a reply. Mary was in a white shirt and a light blue skirt that complement her. Molly, on the other hand, was in a dark green skirt that complement her figure more than she was used to.  
“John decided that he was going to take Sherlock to town. Said he was getting too antsy.” Mary took a sip of her tea before turning to Molly. “He wanted to ask you if it was okay, but he wasn’t sure what Sherlock would get into if they didn’t leave.”  
“It’s fine. He’s a doctor; I’m sure he made a good judgment.”  
“Did Sherlock tell you John was a doctor?” Mrs. Holmes asked, leaning towards Molly.   
“Oh, um no, he didn’t. I’d heard of John Watson before. I heard…I heard he got shot.”  
“You’re very observant Molly.” Violet said, giving a smile. “Anyway, on to a different subject. What on earth was with all the raised voices this morning coming from Sherlock’s room?”   
Molly had never wished to be swallowed up by the ground as much as she did in that moment.   
“Well, um…”  
“I believe that it was just a large misunderstanding on all of our parts.” Mary interjected, smiling at Molly. ‘Thank you.’ Molly mouthed.   
“It’s is safe to assume that my son was a part of the issue?”  
“When isn’t he?” Mary smiled. Violet smiled in return and gave a small shake of her head. “He’s always have a knack for trouble. When he told me he was going to be a consulting detective, I thought he was going mad!”  
“What’s a consulting detective?” Molly asked.  
“Before Sherlock went off to war, he used to help Scotland Yard solve crimes. Whenever there was anything that was over their heads, they’d call Sherlock in to help. Sometimes he would even solve them without leaving Baker Street. That’s where he lived.” Mary explained when she saw Molly’s confused expression. “John used to run after him and help in any way he could. That usually resulted in John getting left behind in some random place. He would write the cases down afterwards, though. I’m sure he’d let you see some of them if you asked.”   
“So Sherlock’s job was to literally look for danger?”  
“That describes it pretty well” Violet grinned.   
“Did he ever get really injured?” Molly asked. “He couldn’t have done all of that and not gotten hurt, right?”  
“He got pretty close a couple of times. But he usually came back just a little battered.” Mary replied.   
“Of course I only hear of the danger long after it has past.” Violent said. “I don’t know what I am going to do with that boy.”  
“I suppose we shall have to keep him” Mary chuckled. “Since the boys are gone for the day, would you like to make some cookies with me?” Mary turned to Molly “I always make cookies when I’m bored.”  
“Really?” Molly was slightly skeptical of that. She didn’t really see Mary as the baking type.  
“Not really; but Mrs. Hudson said I wasn’t allowed to practice my shooting in the garden and I thought baking was a good alternative.”  
“That sounds like a-practice your shooting?!”  
“Oh yes, dear.” Violet said, a gleam in her eye. “She practices with her gun. She used to be a sort of assassin.”  
“You were-what?”  
“I was a bit of a rebel when I was younger.” Mary laughed. “I had some fun; of course that was before I went rogue. But that’s enough about me. Are we going to bake or not?” Mary got up and made her way to the kitchen.  
“Is she serious?” Molly turned to Violet as she pointed to where Mary had been.  
“Completely. But don’t let her fool you; she’s a big softly.” Violet smiled.  
Molly couldn’t help but think that Violet was right.

Molly took a deep breath. Mary was leaning over to put the cookies into the oven and Molly scrounge up enough courage to blurt. “So about the whole ‘assassin’ thing. What happened?” Molly looked sheepish. “You don’t have to answer.”  
Mary turned around and shrugged. “I worked for an agency. I started off with just getting information but worked my way up to killing. When I found out that I was and had been sent to kill innocent people, I quit. Changed my name, moved, and destroyed any record of myself. That was a long time ago.”  
“So Mary isn’t you real name?”  
“Mary was my grandmother’s name. I found Marston on a headstone.”  
“Does John know your real name?”  
“No. I said just about what I’ve told you after Sherlock figured it out. I was going to tell them both the whole story, but John decided he liked not knowing. I use to worry that it would bother him, but he seems ok with it.”  
“That’s good.” The kitchen lapsed into a silence. “I’m sorry to pry, I was just wondering.”  
“You don’t have to apologize.” Mary smiled, patting Molly on the arm. “Now what are we going to do while we wait for the cookies to bake?” Mary gave a glance around the room, when her eyes landed on a bag of flour.

“What on earth are you two doing covered in flour?” John asked as he walked into the kitchen.   
“We were trying to make cookies.” Molly replied, sheepishly. In truth, Molly and Mary weren’t ‘covered’ in flour so much as they were dusted. Mary’s face was completely white and here hair was an odd mix of blonde and white. Molly, on the other hand, had flour on her clothes and a handprint on her face.   
“The cookies are made, don’t worry. We just thought we should entertain ourselves while we waited for them to bake.” Mary said, nonchalant. Molly grinned and began to wipe the flour off of herself.  
“Well, whatever it is that you two are doing, would you cut it out?”  
“And what, pray tell, are you going to do if I don’t?” Mary smirked.  
“I’ll marry you.”  
Any trace of a smirk was gone from Mary’s face as Molly stood back and watched.  
“Was that a proposal, Mr. Watson?”  
“It was indeed, soon-to-be Mrs. Watson.”  
Faster than John expected, Mary had her arms thrown around him. She grabbed his face, and gave him a sound kiss. When the lovebirds broke apart to breathe, Molly had to hold back a giggle as Mary wiped some of the flour that had made its way onto John’s face.   
“Where’s Sherlock? I want to tell him the news.” Mary asked, still a little winded.  
“I thought he came back to the house.” John replied, a hint of panic in his voice.  
“I don’t think so.” Molly said, frowning. She walked out into the hall and found Mrs. Hudson.  
“What on earth-” Mrs. Hudson took in Molly’s still slightly floured form.  
“Mrs. Hudson, have you seen Sherlock?”  
“No, dear. I thought he was still in town.”  
“I stopped to get an engagement ring.” John yelled, coming out of the kitchen. “So he said he would head back to the house while I did that.”  
“Did you lose Sherlock Holmes?” Mary asked, coming out behind him.  
“I think I did.” John’s face, which had been so full of color a moment before was now pale.  
“What’s going on over here?” Violent said as she came around the corner.  
“Nothing!” Everyone said in unison like a group of guilty children.   
“John and Mary are going to get married!” Mrs. Hudson said before Violet could start asking questions. Violet’s face morphed from confusion to happiness.  
“That’s wonderful!” As she began to fret over the couple, Molly’s caught Mary’s eye.   
‘I’ll go look for Sherlock.’ She mouthed. Mary gave a nod and turned back to Mrs. Holmes with a smile.


	11. Chapter 10

Molly was quickly running out of breath. She had understood that the Holmes manor wasn’t exactly close to town, but she didn’t realize how far away it was. Her boots and the hem of her skirt were turning a dusty brown from all the dirt she was kicking up. When she was about to give up, the path made its way out from under the trees. She could see the town, and the sight almost made her want to cry. She huffed and puffed her way to the nearest store, which happened to be a butcher shop.  
“Can you tell me-” huff “- if you’ve seen a-” huff “-tall man with dark hair?” Molly asked, her face red and sweat running down the side of her face. She wasn’t able to say her sentence looking forward, because she was too busy trying to catch her breath.  
“Um, I have seen one…but are you alright?” Molly looked up from the ground to see that there were two men standing behind the counter. One had salty hair and whiskers, but the other was younger with brown curls. The younger seemed to be the one that had spoken.  
“I’ll be fine if I can sit down.” Molly replied. She had the odd sense that she had seen the man before. He looked incredibly familiar. Just when the light bulb went off in her head, it went off in his.  
“Is that you, Molly?” the man asked, his face lighting up. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was at the orphanage with you.”  
“Tom? My, you’ve grown.” Molly grinned back, looking up at Tom. “Of course I remember you. We used to climb trees and worry Mattie by wondering off.”  
“Yes. She used to get so worked up every time it happened.” Tom laughed.  
“So what have you been doing since I last saw you?” Molly asked.  
“Well, I became a butcher.”  
“No shit.” The older man behind the counter interrupted. Molly had to stifle a giggle.  
“That’s Jacob. He owns the shop. He’s friends with my adopted father.” Tom explained, turning towards Jacob to hide his red face.  
“So everything is going well?”  
“Yeah. What about you? What have you been doing?”  
“Well, I became a nurse…now I’m here to take care of an injured solider.”  
“Really? Who is it?”  
“Sherlock Holmes.”  
Both Tom and Jacob seemed to choke on their own spit. “You’re taking care of Sherlock?!” Tom said, his voice louder than he meant it to be.  
“Why the hell would you put yourself through that kind of torture?” Jacob asked, completely serious.  
“He’s not that bad-” Molly replied, feeling self-conscious. She knew Sherlock was a handful, but he really wasn’t terrible.  
“I saw just saw the police cart him off to the jail.” Jacob said.  
“What?!” Molly yelled as an old woman entered the butcher shop. The lady gave her a look as she went up to the counter. Jacob indicated to the door and Tom ushered Molly out.  
“I’ll show you where they went.” Tom said, taking her arm and guiding her.  
“Why on earth did policemen take him to jail?”  
“Apparently Sherlock was harassing some man about how he was cheating on his wife…in front of the guy’s wife.”  
“Jeeze…” Molly said with a sigh.  
“They won’t retain him. I think they just wanted to get him off of the street…trying to make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”  
Molly nodded and they went on in silence. Molly realized that Tom was still holding onto her arm. She wasn’t sure if she should wiggle out; that would be rude. But she didn’t want to give Tom the wrong idea. ‘He’s just doing it to be helpful.’ Molly reminded herself. ‘It doesn’t mean anything’. Soon they camp to the police station.  
“Well, here we are.” Molly said, trying to not wiggle her way out of Tom’s hand. He quickly dropped her arm, his cheeks going red. He’s face got even redder when he realized that there were splotches of animal blood on his hands that had gotten onto Molly’s shirt.  
“Oh God, I’m so sorry…” he reached out his hands to try and rub the blood off before realizing that his hands were the source of the problem. So he limply dropped his hands to his side.  
“It’s fine, Tom, really it’s fine. I’ll-I’ll see you’re around, I guess.”  
“Yeah. Bye Molly.” Tom gave a little wave and a hesitant smile.  
Molly gave him a quick grin before walking into the police station. There wasn’t anyone standing there, so Molly went up to the desk.  
“Can you tell me where Sherlock Holmes is? I’m here to take him home.”  
“I don’t know if we’re allowed to release him.” The man replied sheepishly. Molly gave a loud sigh and began to glare slightly at the man’s freckled face.  
“And why is that?”  
“Well, um…he’s here to learn a lesson….and I’d have to ask one of the superiors if it was alright.”  
“Ok, you do that.” The man gave a quick nod and scampered off. The second he was out of sight, Molly made her way down the other hallway towards the cells. She passed three empty ones before she found the one with Sherlock in it. He was sitting on the floor, facing away from her, twiddling his thumbs.  
“Is this going to become a usual occurrence?; because I would rather not have to come get you out of jail every day. The run from the house was exhausting.”  
“Only if people are going to be dull and predictable.” Sherlock replied, turning to face her.  
“If they were so predictable, why are you sitting in a jail cell?”  
Sherlock glared at her, and pointed to her sleeve.  
“I see you got comfortable with the butcher.”  
Molly’s lips formed a tight line. “That’s not exactly important right now, is it? He’s an old friend and he told me where you had gone.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and was about to say something when his attention was turned to the police officer that came to stand besides Molly. It was the same officer from before and he gently put his hand on Molly’s arm.  
“I’m sorry miss, but you can’t speak-”  
“Can I take him home or not?” Molly interrupted, shaking his arm off.  
“Well, I’m-”  
“As I understand it, he told a woman that her husband was cheating on her, correct? So the way I see it, he has just saved a woman from years of heartbreak. Now I know the woman was probably devastated, but better to be sad earlier than later, right?”  
“Well, I suppose so.” The man shark back from Molly, a comical sight to Sherlock. Thankfully, he was able to contain his laughter.  
“Then Sherlock hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?” The policeman shook his head.  
“Can you let him go?”  
“I guess so.” The man looked incredibly confused and unsure as he began to unlock the cell door. Sherlock stood up, stretching and walked out of the doorway, trying to stay as far away from Molly as possible.  
“Thank you officer. I hope I won’t have to see you here again anytime soon.” And with that, she walked back to the front and walked out of the door with Sherlock following behind her.

“What the hell were you thinking?!?!” Molly yelled. The minute both Sherlock and Molly were back on the dirt path that led to the house, her demurer had changed completely. “What you did was completely stupid and-”  
“I was under the impression that you believed I was saving a woman from heartbreak.” Sherlock said, his voice like ice.  
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” Molly said, squashing the urge to hit him. “Why did you run away from John?”  
“He was being boring. I needed somewhere to think.”  
“And you couldn’t have done that in your room?! Why lie to him?”  
“Because I needed to think alone!” Sherlock snapped. “He was buying a ring, and though I’m socially inept I think I know what an engagement ring looks like!”  
“Why is that a problem?” Molly asked, her tone louder than she meant it to be.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sherlock began to take longer strides, trying to leave Molly behind. She had to jog to keep up with him.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Why do you care?!” Sherlock spat, his eyes staring straight ahead.  
“Because I care for you…as does everyone in that house. If your mother hadn’t needed to be distracted, both Mary and John would have run to find you. They love you and they were worried about you, Sherlock.”  
“See, that’s the problem!” Sherlock suddenly stopped and turned to face Molly. “I never asked to be loved. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side, Molly Hooper.” He turned on his heel and continued to walk briskly away from her.  
“Just because they’re getting married doesn’t mean you won’t see John again.” Molly called after him. He suddenly turned around, his face sent in a deep frown.  
“What did you just say?” His voice was like steel.  
“You heard me.” Molly replied, hoping her courage didn’t fail her. “You don’t have to be afraid of losing John Watson. Yes, things will be different when he is married, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be void from your life. Both John and Mary love you and want you to be a part of their lives.” Molly saw Sherlock take a breath “And don’t try to deduce me, please. I already know you use it as a defense mechanism.”  
Sherlock stood rooted on the ground and watched as Molly began to walk away. He was utterly astonished that this women who had only been in his life for a short while seemed to understand him better than anyone else.  
“How on earth did you come to that conclusion?” Sherlock ran ahead of Molly, blocking her path of movement.  
“I-I don’t know I just did.” Molly stuttered, her courage used up. “Now, can you get out of my way?”  
“No.” Sherlock stated simply. “I want you to talk me through your deduction.”  
“Well, um, you mentioned the ring and John. John’s your best friend and you love him. When people get married they usually move in together and take less time to be with anyone besides their significant other, at least for the first year or so. So…you’re afraid of losing John Watson.” Molly ended meekly, unsure if that was what Sherlock wanted. She watched as his brow creased and he began to study her like some foreign specimen. Molly could feel him drinking in every detail about her appearance and probably her life. She couldn’t help but squirm a little. His eyes shot back up to her face and he made eye contact. Molly felt her eyes widen as she noticed the detail in his eyes; the gold speaks and the way his eyes seemed to waver between blue and green. She felt heat rush up her face as he moved slightly forward, inching closer to her.  
“Very good deduction, Ms. Hooper.” Molly gulped as she heard his deep voice reverberate and his breath tickle her face.  
“Thank you.” She replied.  
“Best be on our way, then?” Sherlock took a step back, feeling light headed. He tried to squash all the voices in his head saying all of the things he had noticed about Molly and felt a blush creep onto his face when words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘amazing’ kept popping into his mind. Sherlock cleared his throat and began making his way towards the path with Molly following at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. I don't even have an excuse...


	12. Chapter 11

“Where on earth were you?” Violet rushed out of the front door as Molly and Sherlock came to the porch.

“I was-” Sherlock started to say.

“We were all so worried.” Violet grabbed Sherlock into a bear hug and refused to let go until Sherlock reciprocated it. He gave her a halfhearted hug in return.

“I’m fine Mum.” Sherlock spoke softly, looking down at his mother.

“You scared us.” Violet took Sherlock’s face between her hands and began to stroke her thumb across his cheek. “John was practically besides himself and your father-”

“Dad’s here?” Sherlock suddenly got very rigid and took a step back from his mother.

“He came soon after Molly left to find you. He’s sitting down at the table now…He’s better now Sherlock: hasn’t had a drop of alcohol since you left.” Violet’s hands slide down to Sherlock’s arms as she ran then up and down, trying to comfort him. “He’s much better now.”

“I want to go to my room.” Sherlock stared straight ahead and his voice carried no emotion.

Violet’s hands dropped and her face fell a little. “Okay sweetie. I’ll have someone bring you some food…but you have to eat dinner with everyone tomorrow. Promise?”

“I promise.” Sherlock gave his mother a quick kiss on the forehead before running into the house. Violet watched as he disappeared and heaved a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry Molly. Thank you very much for going after him.” Violet ushered Molly’s indoors and followed after her.

“It’s not a problem; that’s what I’m here for. But about his father…”

“When Sherlock was smaller, his father contracted alcoholism.”

“Contracted?”

“Mr. Holmes’s best friend died when Sherlock was eleven. He began to drink to drown out the sorrows and soon found that he needed it to live. Mycroft, being older, understood the situation. Sherlock, however, felt neglected. Mr. Holmes never hit anyone: you can be sure I would have left him if he hurt my boys…but Sherlock was never a normal child and he got teased. He was at a tender age and he didn’t really have anyone to take care of him. I was taking care of my husband and Mycroft had school to worry about. We all did what we could, but I don’t think he’s ever forgiven his father for leaving him alone.”

“That’s so sad.”

“The minute Theodore heard what had happened to Sherlock, he rushed out here. He had been London with Mycroft helping with anything he could.” Mrs. Holmes gave one last glance to the stairs, before walking into the dining room with Molly behind her.

 

* * *

 

“So, if you don’t find it too rude of me to ask, who exactly are you?” the white haired man who Molly assumed was Mr. Holmes asked Molly. He was wearing black dress pants that contradicted perfectly with his blue sweater. This was the first time since sitting down for dinner that the silence had been broken. There had been too much eating going on to chat.

“I’m Molly Hooper. I’m a nurse and Mycroft hired me to take care of Sherlock.”

“Oh.” The man smiled making Molly smile in return. “How is he doing?”

“He’s doing quite well.”

“Has he gotten into trouble yet?”

Mary and John snorted at the other end of the table.

“When isn’t he in trouble?” John smiled.

“Very true…I know you’ve both heard this story” Mr. Holmes turned to look at John and Mary before turning back to Molly “but there was one day when Sherlock was eight. I had left him alone while I read a book. I assumed he would be fine until I heard this terrible crash from the kitchen. I ran in to see lots of broken bowls and plates on the ground with Sherlock just standing there. He had tried to get a plate and a bowl to do an experiment on a frog that he had found in a puddle and all of the plates came crashing down.” Violet gave a chuckle and looked at her husband lovingly.

“I remember coming home after that happened. Everyone tried to play it off like nothing was wrong. Mycroft even tried to distract me from going into the kitchen” Violet’s chuckled.

 “After we cleaned up, he realized that the frog was gone and was completely distraught.” Mr. Holmes continued. “He thought he had killed the poor thing when he knocked the plates over. It turned out that the frog had slipped out of his pocket when he was walking back to the house. He was so relived.” Everyone gave a hearty chuckle.

“He’s not going to come down, is he?” Mr. Holmes asked, sobering the mood.

“No sir, I’m afraid he’s not.” Molly said, giving an apologetic look.

“I know it’s silly, but I had hoped to talk with him-”

“He did promise to eat with us tomorrow…” Molly said, trying to lift his spirits. “And..and I was going to give him his food anyway and I will tell him that you were thinking of him…if you want me to.”

Mr. Holmes’s face lit up like a flame; all at once and beautiful to behold. “Are you sure?”

“Of course…now, if I could be excused, I’ll take Sherlock his dinner.” Molly gave a nod to the others at the table and got a plate of food for Sherlock from the kitchen and stealthily snuck upstairs. She gave a gentle knock on Sherlock’s door.

“Sherlock?” She called quietly “Can I come in? I have your food.” When there wasn’t any reply she cautiously opened the door to find Sherlock lying on his bed, rolled into a ball. His knees were to his chest and he didn’t seem to notice that anyone had entered.

“What exactly are you doing?” Molly asked as she closed the door behind her.

“Oh sorry” Sherlock seemed to shake himself out of his head “I was thinking.”

“May I ask what you were thinking about?” Molly handed Sherlock the food as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

“That depends entirely on if you are expecting an answer or not.” It was meant to be sassy, but it really just came out tired.

“You’re father wants to talk with you…I think it would be a good idea.” Molly whispered, almost hoping that Sherlock wouldn’t hear her. She heard Sherlock take a sharp intake of breath and then heave a deep sigh. Molly sat in uncomfortable silence for what seemed like ages.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Sherlock said too quickly.

“You know if you weren’t fine…that would be okay.” Molly whispered as she sat down next to Sherlock.

Sherlock’s answer was to start eating his food. He attempted to seem like he wasn’t hungry at all, but the minute the food hit his stomach he realized how famished he was. His eating speed quicken and Molly couldn’t help but smile.

“Were you hungry?”

“Shut up.” Sherlock said through a mouth full of food. Molly let out a peal of laughter and laughed even harder when Sherlock scowled.

“After you’re done eating, do you want to go to bed, or shall I read to you again?” Molly asked after she had quieted her laughter.

“I’m not a child.” Sherlock pouted.

“I’ll go get my pajamas on. You can decide while I’m gone.”

 

When Molly returned, she found the room in darkness and a lump in the bed that she assumed was Sherlock.

“I don’t have to sleep here if-”

 “No” Sherlock rolled over quickly to face her “please stay.”

Molly nodded and snuggled under the covers. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, unsure of how Sherlock wanted the sleeping arrangements to work. She heard the rustling of a hand moving and soon felt Sherlock’s arm work its way under her neck. She felt him tug at her, silently asking her to roll over towards him. She complied and felt the hand leave her neck to go to her waist. Sherlock slowly wound his arms around Molly’s waist, being careful to watch her face for any signs of discomfort. When there was none, he moved his head to the crook of her neck. He felt her hands slip around his neck and wind into his hair.

“Thank you.” Sherlock whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Molly whispered back.

Soon both of them were sleeping peacefully, without any sign of a nightmare.

* * *

 

“Molly?” Mary knocked one Sherlock’s bedroom door. “Molly, are you in there? It’s time to get up.” When there was still no answer, Mary slowly opened to find that the room was empty. “Molly? Where are you?”

“Oh, sorry!” Mary turned around to find Molly fully dressed in the doorway behind her. “I was just in the library reading.”

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted you to get breakfast before it got cold.” Mary grinned.

“Thank you very much. Do you know where Sherlock went? I tried to see how he was doing this morning, but he was already gone.”

“He left you this.” Mary’s grinned widened as she took a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Molly.

“Gone on a case, don’t worry…signed Sherlock” Molly read aloud. “Did John go with him?”

“Actually, he let John stay here. Told him he should be spending some time with me.”

“That was rather sweet of him.”

“Yeah, that’s what worries me. Sherlock doesn’t do ‘sweet’ that often.”

Molly shrugged, before leaving the room and going down to breakfast.

 

“What do you girls want for breakfast?” Mr. Holmes asked as Mary and Molly walked into the kitchen. Molly had to hold back some giggles when she saw that Mr. Holmes was fully dressed except for his bunny slippers. “I promised Mrs. Hudson a day off, so you’ll have to deal with my cooking.”

“I’ll just have some oatmeal, thank you.” Molly replied.

“Well, I’m afraid that won’t do. I’m not very good at making oatmeal.” Mr. Holmes shrugged.

“Then what are you good at making?” Mary asked.

“Bacon.” Mr. Holmes gave a sheepish grin.

“Bacon sounds yummy to me.” Mary laughed.

“I’ll have bacon too…but would you mind telling me where the honey is?”

“Why?” Mr. Holmes turned to look at Molly, his face in the same look of confusion that she had come accustomed to seeing on Sherlock’s face.

“It’s a weird habit I’ve had since I was a kid. I like to have tea with honey whenever I had bacon. I was only ever allowed to have either on Sundays at the orphanage.” Molly gave an embarrassed grin.

“I remember someone telling me something along that same line a long time ago.” Mr. Holmes gave a sad smile and went back to making the bacon. “You remind me of him.” Mr. Holmes said quietly.

“Who?” Mary asked.

“Edward Berkley. He was my best friend since we were twelve. He looked a lot like you, actually.” Mr. Holmes raised his head after putting the strips of bacon in the pan “Same brown eyes and smile. His nose was constantly in a book and he used to just rant to me about them.” Mr. Holmes gave a small laugh then his face fell. “Excuse me girls. I’m just an old man that likes to talk.” Thankfully, the bacon started to sizzle before anything else could happen. Mr. Holmes grabbed plates for both the woman and gave them their food while Mary made tea. When they had all settled down for some food, there was a knock at the door. One of the servants came it and spoke to Molly.

“I’m sorry miss, but he insists on seeing you.”

“Who insists on seeing me?”

“Archie, miss. Hurry please. I think he’s hungry.”


	13. Chapter 12

Molly nodded and went to the door. She was expecting to see a grown man, but instead found a child that looked about the age of eight. He had dark curls and was wearing ratty clothing. His hands were covered in dirt and he had some mud on his cheek. When he saw Molly he immediately reached into his pocket and handed Molly a small note. Taking the note, Molly began to read it.

‘This is Archie. Feed him’

Molly rolled her eyes at Sherlock’s lack of manners but beckoned Archie inside.

“How do you know Sherlock, Archie?” Molly asked as she ushered him inside.

“I’m one of his network, missus. I get information and he feds me.”

Molly turned to take a hard look at Archie. She noticed how thin his cheeks and how prominent his ribs were.

“Archie” Molly started slowly “when is the last time you ate?”

“’Bout three days ago, missus. Billy tries to get as much food as he came, but sometimes it’s hard.” Archie’s tone was cheery. It sounded like he was talking about a good book and not his own starvation.

“Who is Billy?”

“He’s my cousin. Takes care of me ever since my mother died. He works for Mr. Holmes too. I never knew my father.” Archie gave a shy smile. “Can I have some food now? I’m awfully staving.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry.” Molly turned away, a little embarrassed, and began to walk towards the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she knew that she was going to like Archie.

She walked right into the kitchen and began to heat some more bacon for Archie. She turned to find that he had somehow gotten himself onto the counter and was sitting there on the ledge.

“Would you like some eggs too?”

Archie shrugged. “I’ve never had eggs.”

“Well, we’ll just have to change that, won’t we?” Molly gave a smile before getting and egg to fry. After setting both the bacon and an egg into the pan and starting to cook it, she turned back to Archie.

“So, what is it exactly you do for Sherlock? Nothing dangerous, I hope.”

“Oh, no missus. Mr. Holmes never gives me the scary stuff to do. He leaves that for the others, especially the ones in London.”

“The one’s in London?”

“Mmmmhmmm. He called me and Wiggins, that’s my cousin, down to help him with any case he found. I think it’s ‘cause we’re his favorites.” Archie’s voice lowered at the last part of his sentence like he was telling some large secret.

Molly grinned. “I’m sure that’s why.”

“But the thing I don’t understand is why Mr. Holmes didn’t let me come with him this time. Usually he lets me see the body, but only when it’s not too graphic. Says ‘we’ve got standards to uphold Archie’.”

Molly had to hold back a smile at Archie’s disgusted face. Soon enough the bacon was sizzling and the egg was done. Molly handed the plate to Archie, along with a buttered piece of bread, and ushered him out to the dining room.

“Thanks a lot, missus!” Archie said as he sat down in a chair and began to shovel the food into his face.

“Archie?” At the sound of his name, the boy immediately stopped his eating with half of a piece of bacon hanging from his mouth. “Why do you call me missus?”

“You’re the first lady Mr. Holmes has ever talked about. Wiggins and I thought it was a good name.”

Molly gave a grin and felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. Archie went back to eating his food and had soon wolfed it all down. Molly took his plate back to the kitchen and washed it quickly and returned to the dining room to find Archie’s eyelids drooping.

“How about you come take a nap, Archie?”

“But-” Archie gave a big yawn “Wiggins is going to come get me. Besides-” another large yawn “I’m not even tired.”

“Come lay down in my bed. I’ll make sure to tell Billy where you are when he comes to get you.”

“Are you sure? I’m not very clean.” Archie got up from his chair. Molly watched as he rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sure.” Molly took his hand in hers and began to lead him to her room.

“I really am fine.” Archie argued as Molly led him up the steps.

“I insist, Archie.”

“If you say so.” Archie shrugged and continued to follow Molly to her room. When they entered, Molly pulled the covers back and took his shoes off for him.

“Thanks missus Molly” Archie whispered as he lay down his head on the pillow. Molly moved his legs so that they weren’t hanging off the end of the bed.

“Sweet dreams Archie.” Molly whispered back as she pulled the blankets over Archie. Before leaving the room, she pushed Archie’s curls back and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

 

* * *

 

“You’re missus then?” Molly answered the front door to find a skinny younger man standing on the porch. He had sandy hair that had mud mixed in and his blue eyes stood out from his pale face. Molly had let Archie sleep for hours and the time was around 4 o’clock now.

“Yes. And may I assume you’re Billy?”

“Call me Wiggins, missus. I’m looking for a small child about this tall” Wiggins gestured about Archie’s height “Where can I find him?”

“He’s still napping right now. Would you like to come in for some food?”

“I’ll come in, but Mr. Holmes already fed me.” Wiggins walked through the door and Molly closed it after him.

“He won’t be very patient. He wanted Archie back so he could-”

“Molly, where is Archie? I told you to feed him, not to hide him.” Sherlock marched through the door.

“He’s taking a nap.”

“Taking a nap? Why on earth is he taking a nap?” Sherlock scoffed.

“He was tired. I told him to sleep. He is a young boy Sherlock.”

“Are you nagging me because I don’t let him sleep when he’s helping me with a case?”

“No. But murder can tire even the best of us.”

“Now you’re nagging me because I take him on cases!” Sherlock smiled, teasing Molly and pointed an accusing finger at Molly.

“No! I think he enjoys it very much and it is a good learning experience for him. But he needs to sleep.”

“Oh God, you’ve formed an attachment, haven’t you?!”

“He is a very charming boy.” Molly grinned.

Wiggins had been standing silently by, watching the events unfold. He gave a small cough reminding them both that he was still there.

“We need to be going. Do you mind if I take Archie home? I can carry him to the train station.” Wiggins directed his question towards Molly, understanding that she was going to have the final word in the matter.

“I’m fine with that; just try not to wake him.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, but went upstairs anyway. He came back soon, carrying Archie in his arms, the little boy still asleep. He carefully handed him over to Wiggins. After handing Wiggins some money for the train, both Molly and Sherlock waved goodbye.

“That little boy has you wrapped around his finger.” Sherlock smiled down, looking at Molly’s fond smile at the retreating forms of Wiggins and Billy.

“He is a sweetheart.” Molly smiled back at Sherlock. “Come on. We better start making dinner. Mrs. Hudson, is after all taking a day off.” Molly turned to go towards the kitchen and saw that Mr. Holmes was standing there.

“Molly, dear do you mind if I speak with Sherlock?”

“No…no, that’s fine.” Molly nodded, watching Sherlock in her peripheral vision to make sure he didn’t seem too opposed to the idea.

“Thank you. Sherlock, do you mind if we just go to my study?”

“No; not at all.” Sherlock’s voice was tight and guarded. Molly was a little worried about leaving him, but Sherlock had already walked away.


	14. Chapter 13

“So…what did you want to talk about?” Sherlock asked his father. They had been sitting in silence for some time and Sherlock was getting more and more agitated. He was incredibly uncomfortable and wanted to run away as fast as he could.

“I wanted to take this chance to explain myself.” Mr. Holmes said slowly.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s fine.” Sherlock replied, rushing his words hoping that would be the end of the discussion.

“Sherlock please.” Sherlock nodded and quieted down. Mr. Holmes heaved a sigh before beginning. “I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I just want to get a chance to tell you what happened…Edward was like a brother to me. He’s like John is to you. And after he and his family were killed-“

“Wait, I don’t remember that.” Sherlock interrupted.

“It’s a conspiracy of an old man, Sherlock. No one is really sure what happened to Edward’s family. He and his wife were found on the road, looking like the driver had lost control of the horses and crash. Their daughter is thought to have fallen in the river.”

“I don’t see what this has to do with you being a drunk.”

“I became depressed, Sherlock. At first I drank to drown my sorrows but I soon learned I needed to drink to survive. If I was passed out on the ground then there wasn’t a chance for me to do anything stupid. I couldn’t hurt myself or anyone else if I wasn’t conscious.”

“You don’t have to have this conversation with me. I’m fine.” Sherlock snapped.

“No, you’re not…you’re not fine and you don’t want to admit it. I don’t care if you’ve forgiven me or if you haven’t. I am still your father and I still need to look after you and make sure that you are okay.” 

“Look, I said I was fine. I AM fine!” Sherlock snapped. “You know what, I’m just going to get dinner. I don’t need to hear this!” Sherlock stomped out of the room. Mr. Holmes shook his head and followed Sherlock out.

* * *

 

“Archie is sweet.” Molly smiled as she stirred the soup she was making.

“He’s what I think Sherlock would have been like as a child.” Mary replied. Molly nodded and was about to say something when Sherlock barged into the room.

“I need my dinner right now.” Sherlock snapped.

“Why? You promise to eat dinner with everyone today.” Molly asked.

“Well, I lied. Now give me some food.”

“No. You said you were going to eat with everyone so you will.”

Sherlock didn’t take very kindly to this. “I’m tired out after my case today and-”

“What did you do on your case today, Sherlock?” Mary asked. She was trying hard to diffusion the situation. She didn’t want a screaming match in the kitchen.

“Mr. Williams died in his house, alone. He was unmarried and had no relatives that lived close by. Everyone that could have killed him had alibies and his house wasn’t close to town. By what the idiot police saw, there wasn’t any way anyone killed him. I was called in to see what happened. I thought it was going to be more challenging so I called in Archie and Wiggins. I turns out the Mr. Williams had pissed off someone in town because he owed the guy some money. Mr. Williams went to get a drink, it was drugged and he died within hours in the safety of his home.”

“You are a terrible liar.” Molly hissed under her breath.

“Oh, so now I’m a liar?!”

“Yes!”

Sherlock stepped forward until he was towering over Molly. “And why, pray tell, Ms. Hooper do you think that I am lying?”

“The devil’s in the details. You wouldn’t have to add all those random names and facts if it were true.” Molly replied, not breaking eye contact.

“Well, congratulations Ms. Hooper! Aren’t you just a genius?! Maybe they should have contacted you for the case?! I’m sure you would have solved it a lot faster than I did. Oh, wait I didn’t have to solve it because there wasn’t one!!” Sherlock screamed.

“Sherlock, calm down. Are you okay?” Mary asked. She had never seen Sherlock this angry before.

“Why does everyone in this damn house insist that I am not okay?! I’M FINE!!” Sherlock yelled. “I get hurt in tiny little skirmish and all of a sudden I’m practically dying! I’M JUST FINE!” Sherlock stood there breathing heavily, but soon enough his breathing picked up and his frown was replaced by a horrified look.

“I can’t breathe.” Sherlock wheezed out, now hyperventilating. “What’s happening?! I can’t breathe!” Sherlock’s hands weaved themselves into his hair and he shut his eyes, trying to concentrate.

“Sherlock, you’re having a panic attack.” He heard Molly say gently as she took his hands from his hair and held them tightly in hers. “I need you to take deep breaths.”

“I can’t breathe and my heart is going wild, and you want me to just take deep breaths?!”

“Sherlock, you are going to work yourself up again.” Molly put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her “Now, deep breaths: in and out and in and out.”

Sherlock followed her lead. “In through the nose, hold it for a couple of seconds, and then out through the mouth.” Molly told him. If Sherlock hadn’t been in the position that he was he would have laughed at Molly’s face as she breathed with him.

Sherlock wrapped his hands around Molly’s wrists and held on like they were his life line. He stared into her eyes until he could breathe normally again.

“Better?” Molly asked.

“Better.” Sherlock replied, still a little out of breath.

Both Molly and Sherlock turned when they heard footsteps come into the room. They both had failed to notice that Mary had left. She ran in with John right behind her. Sherlock’s parents came in soon afterward.

“I’m a doctor. Let me check him.” John rushed to Sherlock’s side.

“I’m fine John.” Sherlock said, sounding tired.

“Don’t you dare start that again!” Mary argued from across the room.

Molly back off as John took over, looking Sherlock over. When he was satisfied that his friend was okay, he pulled Sherlock into a hug.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“John, I doubt that I have control over wheatear I have a panic attack again.” Sherlock replied awkwardly hugging John back.

“Shut up.”

“Sherlock, dear” Mrs. Holmes said after John had finished hugging Sherlock “is there anything you need? A blanket? Some hot tea?”

“I think I should like to sleep.” Sherlock said. Everyone nodded and watched as he slowly left the room.

“Is he going to be okay?” Mrs. Holmes asked after he was out of earshot. “Is that going to happen again?”

“It depends.” Molly said from her spot. Everyone in the room turned to look at her. “If he doesn’t stress himself out, he should be fine. However, he isn’t used to taking things slow and I’m afraid he doesn’t have any intention of starting now.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Mr. Holmes questioned.

“He seems to be shell shocked. It is to be expected. He did go off to war.” Molly was very straight-forward and clinical. It was purely medical.  “He can get over it. He needs to take time and realize that he is not the same as he was when he left.”

 

* * *

 

“Sherlock? Can I come in?” Molly whispered outside Sherlock’s door. Everyone had eaten dinner without him and it had been practically silent. They had all been worried about Sherlock and no one really felt like they had anything to talk about. After Mrs. Hudson had come home and been informed what happened, everyone decided that they were tired and went to bed. Molly had snuck out after everyone was in their rooms and gone to Sherlock’s room.

“Do you want me to-” Molly whispered when the door was yanked open. Sherlock was standing in the doorway in his pajamas.

“Come in.” Sherlock whispered back and taking Molly’s hand and pulling her into his room. When he had shut the door he turned back to face Molly.

“Would you mind telling me what exactly I had today and how exactly to get rid of it?” Sherlock said slowly.

“It was a panic attack, mostly likely brought on by the war. You're shell shocked. If you don’t stress yourself and are willing to talk about what is bothering you instead of holding it in, you could be fine in no time.”

“So I have to talk about my… _feelings_?” Sherlock spit the word out with disgust.

“Yes. Yes you will.”

Sherlock let out a groan and flopped onto the bed, putting his hands under his chin into his thinking position. “That seems unnecessary.”

Molly gave another giggle and lay down next to him on the bed. “You don’t have to tell everyone. You can just talk to me, but you can’t keep bottling your feelings up.”

Sherlock rolled over to face her and just stared at Molly. She was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable when Sherlock let out another groan.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Good…can we go to bed now?”

Sherlock nodded and got up to pull the sheets down. He lay down and pulled Molly down to the bed, covering them both up. He wound his arms around her waist and placed his head next to hers on the pillow. He gave her a small, sleepy smile.

“Goodnight Molly.”

Molly smiled at him and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight Sherlock.”


	15. Chapter 14

“We’re thinking of getting married soon.” Mary announced in the middle of breakfast the next morning. 

Everyone let out words of congratulations. 

“When are you two going to tie the knot?” Mrs. Hudson asked.

“We were thinking of November. It’s only a few months away.” John replied. “And Sherlock I want you to be the best man.”

Sherlock looked up from his plate with his eyebrows creased. “Why?”

“Well because your-”

“I don’t enjoy weddings and I would hardly enjoy yours any more than I would others, no offense Mary.” Sherlock interrupted “If an interesting case came up I couldn’t even be counted on to be at the wedding. Why on earth would you want me-”

“Because you’re my best friend!” John yelled across the table. “I want my best friend to be my best man. Is that perfectly okay with you?” 

Sherlock sat there for moments, not blinking or moving. He seemed to be trying to process the information. After a moment-

“Yes…that sounds okay to me.” Sherlock whispered.

“Well now that one aspect of the wedding is settled, I better begin planning it.” Mary smiled.

* * *

 

 

The months passed quickly and with everyone helping to plan the wedding, as did the wedding planning. Both Mrs. Holmes were helpful with the venue and the flowers. Molly helped with the dresses and Sherlock helped decided who should sit next to who so that everyone was at least outwardly happy. (‘Some people are going to have to be miserable. There is no way that everyone that comes to this wedding are going to be happy’ he had told everyone one day.) So when November 7 th came everyone was ready. 

“Sherlock, hurry up! We have to be at the church in less than an hour!” Molly yelled up the steps. Instead of Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson came scurrying down the steps. “Sorry dear. I had to get the present. Now where-”

“It’s in the dining room. You put the present on the table before you went upstairs. Sherlock, hurry!” Molly yelled again as Mrs. Hudson ran to the dining room. Mr. Holmes was the next to come down the steps. 

“Did Violet already-"

“She’s in the car with the present. Mrs. Hudson is getting her present and then going out to the car.”

Mr. Holmes gave Molly a quick kiss on the forehead. “What would we do without you?” 

Molly gave a smile before turning back to the stairs. “Sherlock! So help me God I will come up there!” Molly yelled as Mr. Holmes walked away. 

“I’m coming, stop yelling.” Sherlock said as he started down the stairs. Molly’s breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Sherlock in his suit. She tried to ignore how well it fit his figure and how his hair curled perfectly under his hat. 

“A yellow bow?” Sherlock asked, coming to stand next to Molly. 

“It matches my dress.” Molly shrugged “I thought that it would look good.”

“It does…it suits you very well.” Molly felt her cheeks redden and she dropped Sherlock’s gaze. 

“Well, shall we?” Sherlock asked, offering Molly his arm.

“Lead the way Mr. Holmes.” Molly chuckled taking Sherlock’s arm.

* * *

 

 

“That was a lovely ceremony” Mrs. Hudson babbled as Sherlock walked her to her dinner table. 

“If you insisted upon crying incessantly do us all a kindness and use a handkerchief.” Sherlock quipped.

“Now there’s no need to be so moody, dear. I must say that Ms. Hooper looks quite lovely, doesn’t she?”

Sherlock turned his head to watch as Molly helped one of the older guest to their seats, chatting amiably with them. 

“Yes she is.” Sherlock replied quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself.

The night was drawing to a close as the sun began to set. Most of the wedding guests had left, but there were still some dancing to the songs on the band. A slow song started to play and Molly stared wistfully at the ground, silently willing herself to stop hoping that a  _ certain someone  _ would ask her to dance. After Sherlock had given his best man speech and dinner was over, he had been successfully moping by himself at a table. Molly would have gone to sit with him, but John’s great-aunt had decided that it was a good time to tell Molly her life story. The sound of a throat being cleared jolted Molly out of her thoughts. She turned to see Sherlock standing in front of her. 

“Do you want to-? I mean, it’s fine if you don’t but I was wondering if-?”

“Yes?” Molly asked, hopeful.

Instead of answering, Sherlock just held his hand out to help Molly up and began to walk to the dance floor.

“I’d love to.” Molly giggled.

Sherlock gave a small smile and gently placed his hand on Molly’s waist as she rested her hand on his shoulder. They joined hands and slowly began a waltz. 

“So…how are you?” Sherlock asked awkwardly. If Molly hadn’t known better she could have sworn that Sherlock’s had a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

“I’m good…and you?”

“I am also good.”

They continued on dancing, both unsure of what to say. Neither wanted to break the silence that hung between them, afraid that it ruin something. 

“This is…this is nice.” Molly said quietly.

“It is.” 

“We should do this more often.” Molly said before realizing what she said. “Not just us, everyone should dance more often…not that dancing with you isn’t fun because that’s not it! It’s very enjoyable…not that I’m over enjoying it! I’m going to shut up now.” Molly turned her burning face away trying to hide. 

Sherlock chuckled “No, I enjoying hearing you talk.”

“You do?” Molly turned back to face Sherlock and caught his gaze.

“Yes, of course.” Sherlock felt his face getting hot again. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.” Sherlock said quietly.

“Me too.” Molly whispered back. “Maybe we should stop dancing.”

“We have.”

Molly and Sherlock just stood there and looked at each other with their arms still around each other. 

“Sherlock! There’s someone that I want you to meet!” Mrs. Hudson called from one of the tables. Sherlock shook out of it and turned to reply to Mrs. Hudson. When Sherlock’s gaze was off her, Molly dropped her eyes to the ground.

“You better go over there. She’s very persistent.” Molly smiled, not looking at Sherlock. 

Sherlock gave a nod and released Molly, leaving her behind as he went to Mrs. Hudson’s table where another older woman was sitting. Molly watched him walk away. Suddenly Molly heard a voice behind her.

“Would you help me find my seat, darling?” Molly’s back stiffened as she felt the man put his hand gently on her lower back.


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of short (sorry). We're getting to the end of the line :) There's probably about one more chapter till the end. Thank you very much to everyone who has read this. Thank you very much.

“The wedding is over…Are you here for the bride or for the groom?” Molly said, refusing to face the man.

“Well sweetie, I’m not really here for either. I’m here for a pretty young woman who just so happens to be a friend to both the bride and the groom.” The man’s slight Irish accent sent chills down Molly’s spine.

“And who exactly would that be James?” Molly asked quietly. James chuckled and began to toy with Molly’s hair.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me Jim?”

“That was a long time ago.” Molly replied, finally turning towards Jim.

“Not long enough for me to forget, sweetheart. You were on the brink of becoming Mrs. Jim Moriarty and this is how you greet me after ten years?”

“You know quite well why I ran away.” Molly said coldly.

“Oh, that hurt sweetheart.” Jim put his hand over his heart in mockery.

“What do you want?”

“I just want my sweetheart back home with me.” Jim said as he wound his arms around Molly’s waist.

“If you don’t get off of me now I swear-”

“Let’s take a walk, honey.” Jim remarked, pinching Molly’s hip. He unwound his arms from her waist and put one around Molly’s shoulders, making sure to bring her in tight to his body.

“I don’t want to ever want to be near you again!” Molly tried to shrug his arm off but he only held her tighter.

“See, you don’t really have a choice Molly dear. If you don’t come with me, I promise each and every one of these boring people will be shot where they stand.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Do you want to take that chance? One little movement from me and they could all be dead.” Jim gave a chuckle. “So what will it be, sweetcakes?”

“I’ll come with you.” Molly sighed, defeated.

“That’s my girl.” Jim crooned and led Molly away from the wedding party.

Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock watched as Molly walked away with the strange man.

“Who is that?” Sherlock asked, interrupting Mrs. Hudson and the other older woman’s conversation. He pointed to the retreating forms of Molly and Jim.

“He said his name was Richard Brooke. He wanted to see Molly for some reason. I thought he must have been an old boyfriend or something.” Mrs. Hudson replied.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where are you taking me?” Molly huffed as Jim lead her deeper into the forest.

“I’m trying to make sure no one will hear you scream.” He replied dragging Molly behind him.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I most certainly am!” Jim replied in a sing-song voice.

“Don’t you remember how that went last time?” Molly huffed, finally getting her arm out of Jim’s grasp.

“I wasn’t there last time.” Jim snapped. He grabbed Molly’s other arm even harder and began to drag her deeper into the forest. Every time Molly tried to say something, Jim would give her a tight squeeze on her arm and drag her harder. She could feel the bruises forming and the blisters on her feet. Finally after about an hour of moving quickly through the woods, Jim stopped.

“Yes, but your father was and he ended up in jail.” Molly huffed.

“What?!” Jim spun to face Molly.

“Last time you tried to kill me your father landed in jail.” Molly replied, defiantly.

“Listen here.” Jim said as he shoved Molly against a tree “I’m going to take this gun” he opened his jacket to reveal a pistol “and make sure a bullet goes straight through your brain. Mummy and Daddy aren’t here this time to protect you.”

“You’re despicable.” Molly spat

“You’re just getting that now?” Jim laughed and grabbed Molly’s arm.

“Get your hands off of me!” Molly yelled. She felt the slap before she heard it and fell to the ground.

“Listen here you little bitch! I did not watch my father rot in jail for this!” Jim took out his pistol and pointed it to Molly’s head. “I let you get away once and I am not going to let you do it again.”

A gunshot rang throughout the woods.


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, there is a mention of suicide...just thought you might want to know.

Molly flinched as she watched Jim fall to the ground, the bullet hitting him in the shoulder causing him to drop the gun.  
“Don’t you dare ever touch her again!” Mary stood about fifty feet away, still in her wedding dress, holding a gun. “I found them!” Mary yelled and Molly heard footsteps coming from other parts of the woods. Sherlock and John came running and John was the first to reach Molly. He kneeled down and began to check Molly over. Sherlock hung back, unsure what he could do to help. While the boys kept an eye on Molly, Mary walked closer to Jim, her gun still drawn.  
“There’s a nice bruise forming on your cheek. I think besides that-” John said  
“Have you all finished you’re moment?” Jim snapped from the forest floor as he tried to sit up.  
“You put a real damper on my wedding.” Mary said calmly as she took a step towards Jim. “The police know we’re out here. There’s nothing you can do.”  
“Oh really” Jim gave a wide grin and grabbed his discarded gun. “Watch me.” He put the gun barrel into his mouth. Molly closed her eyes and moments later heard a gunshot.  
“Mary, are you okay?” John ran over to his new wife who was staring at the corpse blankly.  
“Bastard’s dead now.” Mary turned away and John led her away. Sherlock walked closer to Molly and helped her to her feet.  
“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly just happened?”  
“It’s a long story.” Molly replied. As a group they all began to walk back towards the edge of the forest. They came out of the woods to find a large group of police dragging three people away in handcuffs.  
“We saw these ruffians at the wedding miss.” A graying police officer told Mary “They followed you all out here. We think they were trying to shoot you all.”  
“Is there a blonde one? With a scar over his face?” Molly questioned.  
The officer seemed surprised but assured Molly that they had indeed caught someone with those characteristics. Molly let out a sigh of relief. “That means we don’t have anyone else to worry about.”  
Everyone turned to stare at her with confused looks. “Like I said, long story.”  
“Summarize for us, then.” Sherlock said.  
“The blonde man would be Sebastian Moran, ex-army man. Good friend of Jim Moriarty, the nice man you met back in the woods who killed himself. Moran would have been the last resort and the most dangerous man. Since they have him, everything is okay.” Molly shrugged.  
“How do you know both of these men?” John asked as the ground began to walk up the road.  
“I’ll tell you later.” Molly promised.

* * *

  
“So, where should I start?” Molly asked.  
After everyone had made their way back to Holmes manor, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had hugged everyone. The noise level was very loud as everyone was asking questions and Mrs. Hudson was fretting over everyone. After everyone had calmed down, Mrs. Holmes ushered them all into a sitting room. John and Mary settled on one couch while Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were on the other. Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock settled in a chair and all were facing Molly.  
“Start at the beginning dear.” Mrs. Holmes said.  
Molly nodded and took a deep breath. “My name is Margret Elizabeth Genevieve Berkley…daughter to Catharine and Edward Berkley.” Molly stopped when she heard a sob come from Mr. Holmes.  
“You’re…you’re his daughter?!” Tears glistened in his eyes.  
“I’m sorry…I couldn’t tell you.”  
“Oh no, it’s fine. I’m just…I’m very happy.” Mrs. Holmes put her arms around her husband. “You can continue.”  
“I was happy as a child. I never wanted for anything and was an only child. When I was five my father went up against James Moriarty, the father. My father had discovered some incriminating evidence that Moriarty was the head of a criminal ring. He took the evidence to the police, even after Moriarty threatened him. In less than forty-eight hours there had been five attempts on his life and three of my father’s colleagues had died saving him. My mother and father packed what they could quickly and rushed out of England. We stayed in France for three years. My father would barley ever let my mother and I go outside, and he made sure to keep up to date on English news. On my eighth birthday, my father got the news that James Moriarty had died in prison, leaving behind a window and a son. We stayed in France for another year, just to make sure. On my ninth birthday, we boarded a boat to England. When we came ashore, we hired carriages to take us back to our old home. One was too small to fit all three of us comfortably, so I offered to ride in a separate carriage.” Molly gave a sad smile “That’s what saved me in the end. On the way home, we were attacked by some thugs who were loyal to Moriarty. The driver was shot through the heart and thus crashed the carriage into some trees. My parents were then shot and…and I ran. The men didn’t care about a crying child running away or they didn’t see a need to kill me. I ran all the way to a train station and stuck onto a train. I got off at the end of the line and wondered my way to the orphanage.”  
“How did you meet James the son?” Mary asked.  
“I met him when I was seventeen. He came into the town, suave and rich. He paid me special attention and made me feel wonderful; I thought it was love. We became engaged. I spent more time with him and even met Sebastian Moran, who he said was his best friend. A week before we were to be married someone let his last name slip. He had been introduced to me as James Brooke. When I heard who he really was, I ran away. Seems I was getting pretty good at that. Worked as anything I could for a while, till the war came. I signed up to be a nurse, said goodbye to the orphanage and…you know the rest.”

* * *

  
  
Days past: Mr. Holmes contacted some lawyers and found that Molly was in line to inherit a fortune left to her by both of her parents. Her old home had been sold, but there was a stack of books that went to her. Everything was good…everything except Sherlock. He was ignoring her; they hadn’t talked since Molly had told everyone her story. Molly thought at first that he was just shocked to hear her story, but when he was still avoiding her after a week, she decided to give up.  
“Molly, what are you doing?” John walked into Molly’s room to find that she was packing.  
“I’m leaving John. I have a fortune now that I can use. I think I’ll travel the world.” Molly picked up her suitcase and began to walk down the stairs.  
“No! You can’t leave!” John panicked, grabbing Molly’s arm.  
“Why not? The war is over now. Sherlock doesn’t need me. Now if you would excuse me, I have a train to catch.”  
John watched helplessly as Molly walked out of the door. He then ran to Sherlock’s room and barged in to find Sherlock sitting on the bed.  
“She’s leaving.” John huffed.  
“So what?” Sherlock scoffed, refusing to face John.  
“What?!” John yelled.  
“So what, John? Why does that matter to me?”  
“Because you love her, dammit! And don’t you dare pretend the reason you’ve been avoiding her is because you were trying to build up the courage. So go and get her!”  
“She’s the one leaving me John. Don’t try and blame any of this on me.”  
“She’s leaving because she thinks you are angry at her! There is no other reason! So get off your ass and go get her!”  
Sherlock hesitated and John seriously considered dragging him out of the house. “Go!”  
  
Sherlock ran out of the house to find the car about to pull away.  
“Stop! Stop!” Sherlock yelled stepping in front of the car. When it did, Molly clambered out of the back seat.  
“What the hell do you think you are doing?”  
“I need to talk to you, Molly.”  
“Right now? Really?” Molly walked right up to Sherlock until she was right in his face. “What the hell could have to say-”  
Molly would have continued if it weren’t for Sherlock’s lips pressed to hers. It took her a moment, but soon she started to reciprocate the kiss. When they both felt the need for air, Sherlock broke the kiss and leaded his forehead on hers.  
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what to say.”  
“Shut up and kiss me again.” Molly grinned.

* * *

  
  
 _Epilogue_  
Sherlock and Molly were married one year later. John and Mary’s daughter Ellie was welcomed into the world three months after the wedding. Within one year, Ellie was gifted with a playmate: Eleanor Marie Holmes was born on a rainy April day to loving parents. Molly and Sherlock would go on to have two more children, both sons. Mary and John were gifted with another daughter and son. They all lived in blissful happiness. Sherlock and John would continue working on cases, sometimes enlisting the help of their wives. And they all lived happily ever after. 

_-The End-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks, this is the end of our journey. Thank you to every single person who has read and reviewed this story. It really meant a lot. And don't worry, I shall be back :) Thank you all so much!


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